


Chasing Ships

by Wynja2007



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion
Genre: Angst, Goats, M/M, Old Flames, Past Loves, Past Relationships, Picnics, Reunions, Waiting, Welcome to Valinor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-07-10 19:25:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 114,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7002265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynja2007/pseuds/Wynja2007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glorfindel has spent the last several millennia watching for ships, and Ecthelion, watching Glorfindel. For over a decade, no ships have been sighted but now, at last, there's a shape on the horizon...</p><p>If Triwathon wasn’t on board this time, would he ever come? And how would Glorfindel bear it, if he didn’t?</p><p>But how would Ecthelion bear it, if he did?</p><p>**<br/>A companion piece set towards the end of 'The Last Ship Ever'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ship-Thing

‘Ecthelion! Thel! There’s a ship coming, Thel! Well, it’s a ship-thing, at least; it’s floating on the sea, anyway... No, I’m sure it’s a ship... come and look!’

Ecthelion smiled to himself as he set down his pen. He’d only settled to his work an hour earlier; an ink-and-wash drawing of the beauty of the living waters of the many springs of Valinor, and had reached that interesting point where he knew, he knew he would produce something exquisite if he just gave himself up to it...

‘It’s really strange, Thel! You’ll be interested...’

Glorfindel’s tone had become wistful now, with the hesitancy Ecthelion had learned to read as insecurity; Glorfindel had been chasing ships for several millennia, hoping each time an old friend would be there on the boat, disappointed and worried when he wasn’t... and yet the very possibility of that individual’s arrival was fraught with anxiety lest Ecthelion not approve this old friend who had been there to support Glorfindel when Ecthelion could not...

And, yes, it probably would be challenging, but Ecthelion was prepared to do his best to like this old friend when he arrived; if nothing else, he owed him his thanks, and not for the world would he have Glorfindel’s feelings hurt...

So, as he had done more than a hundred times before, Ecthelion prepared to go and look at the approaching vessel.

‘I am on my way, in fact,’ Ecthelion called, wiping his hands as he stood and backed away from the stool at the table and added a reassuring laugh to his voice. ‘You are an elf, after all, be patient!’

‘I’ve been patient, and now it’s time to stop all that and be excited! A ship, first in...’

‘The first in a decade or so,’ Ecthelion said, leaving the villa and coming to stand next to Glorfindel on the veranda looking out to the east; there was a little rise of land to the crest of the sand dunes that sheltered them from the coastal winds, and beyond that, the sea was a shimmer of azure, twinkling and glimmering under the late morning sun. He slid his arm around Glorfindel’s waist and gave him a gentle squeeze.

‘I see what you mean, my sunbeam, it is certainly floating... no sails, how odd! But then, the last arrivals – your friends Erestor and Arveldir, they were in some hideous yellow contraption, dreadful thing it was...’

‘A lifeboat, they stole a lifeboat from a bigger ship, they said... but this is very odd! If I didn’t know better, I’d say it wasn’t wood, at all!’

‘No more was Erestor and Arveldir’s vessel... but this looks... well, it isn’t sinking, it looks stable enough.’

Still far, far away, the oddly shaped craft pushed its way through the waters. It had a bouncy style of progressing over the seas, and seemed to be going faster than the tide. Too far to make out any passengers yet, but Ecthelion found himself intrigued in spite of himself.

‘They’re not pointed far enough south to be making for the main docks,’ he said, thinking aloud. ‘And there is only one channel broad and deep enough for a ship that size...’

‘The quay? The one just up the beach?’

Ecthelion nodded as Glorfindel let out a whoop of joy.

‘Steady on there!’ Ecthelion said with a laugh. ‘Even if they can sail faster than the tide, still they will need it to be running high for the draught of their ship; they are several hours away, at least!’

‘But we’ll be first there! By the time the lookouts notice and sort out the welcome party, this ship-thing’ll be docked! Do you...’ Suddenly the golden haired hero of a thousand battles grew anxious and shy. ‘Do you think... this time... Triwathon... he’ll be on board...?’

A heartbeat of stillness; Ecthelion knew, by now, exactly how long the pause could be before Glorfindel began to worry...

‘Oh, Fin! How many times have you asked me that, how many ships have you waited for...? Love, if he isn’t...’

If Triwathon wasn’t on this ship, would he ever come? And how would Glorfindel bear it, if he didn’t?

But how would Ecthelion bear it, if he did?

‘...If he isn’t,’ Glorfindel went on, ‘they’ll know where he is, won’t they? Whoever’s on board... there can’t be many left, can there? We know he isn’t dead... Námo would have said, he promised he would send word if Triwathon showed up in his halls... but what if... if he’s faded? Or... no, he wouldn’t, would he? He’d have found his way to Námo, that’s what they do... isn’t it?’

There was only one thing to do with Glorfindel when he started getting fretful about Triwathon – take his mind off it by reminding him he was actually married... but acting like a possessive spouse was not, never had been Ecthelion’s way.

Instead, he laughed softly, gently, and lightly tugged one of Glorfindel’s glorious locks of golden hair.

‘Oh, Fin, my lovely! I wish you would stop worrying! Your Triwathon will show up one day, probably dragging a husband behind him, and I will thank him most politely for taking care of you while I could not! From what you’ve told me of him, he is not the sort to fade, and yes, you are right; Lord Námo would certainly tell you if he arrived there; our esteemed Doomsman is a terrible gossip; he could no more keep such a story to himself as he could cease to loom...’

Glorfindel smiled, but the brightness faded swiftly from his face.

‘It is all right, isn’t it, Thel? Really?’

‘Really,’ Ecthelion said, turning to face his beloved soul-mate, to cup his face with his long fingers, to lift his full lips to kiss him gently, kindly, the way you had to be when Glorfindel was feeling fragile. ‘Really, my darling sunbeam. I told you to find love, if you could; you needed the healing it brings. And now you are whole again, and as free from your history as any of us. I have reason to be grateful to your Triwathon, and I have never begrudged you the comfort I wasn’t there to give.’

‘He isn’t like you, Thel. He’s not a bit like you.’

‘I think I’m glad to hear that. Come on. Hours to go before they dock, however will we pass the time...?’

‘You were working on one of your drawings, weren’t you, Thel? I don’t mind if you want to go back to that, I can... oh.’ Glorfindel broke off as Ecthelion gathered him into his arms, into the shadows of his midnight hair and slid kisses along his throat. ‘Oh, Thel, you do have some lovely ideas on how to pass the time...’

Ecthelion’s soft chuckle reverberated against Glorfindel’s neck and connected directly to his groin; millennia, entire ages spent together, and still he responded instantly to Thel’s touch, to his kiss, to his need...

Glorfindel lost himself in kisses and caresses, distantly noticing he was being led indoors, aware of the gasp of air against bare skin, the silk of Thel’s garments under his fingers, searching for fastenings... there was a soft, yielding mattress under him, the heat and hardness of his lover lying over him and he took a breath and made himself focus, really pay attention to more than just his dizzying passions and swelling emotions...

Thel’s beautiful face looked down at him, his silver-grey eyes intent and dark with love and lust. The dark waves of his hair shone and fell like obsidian satin and his skin translucent and fine, pale and clear, the full lips were held ready to kiss...

‘You’re like a perfect moonlit night, love,’ Glorfindel said, causing the rich mouth to curve in a soft smile. ‘All silver light and midnight shadow...’

‘And you are the sunlight, golden and shining... we complement each other perfectly.’

‘I need you, Thel.’

‘And I you, my Fin, my golden one...’

‘I need to you to hold me, to press against me, to fill me... to make me real...’

Ecthelion cradled Glorfindel in his arms, claimed his lips, slid his tongue into Fin’s mouth and pushed his hips hard against his groin, his erection meeting Glorfindel’s arousal with delicious friction. Fin clutched at him, holding tight, rising to the kiss with a moan and a whimper.

Hands roaming, exploring, Ecthelion’s caresses light and promising, Glorfindel’s touch more urgent, holding tight even when Thel reached for the oil flask and shifted to anoint himself, to prepare Fin’s body.

‘Yes, Thel, yes...’ Fin moved against the exploring fingers, gasping, his eyelids fluttering over his so-blue eyes made huge and dark in arousal. ‘Take me, hold me...’

Ecthelion moved, releasing him for a yearning, lost moment to sit back on his heels and reach again for his lover, pulling him close, sliding him up his thighs so that Fin gasped and locked his legs around Thel’s waist, making it easy to slip into him, to move forwards again, Glorfindel wriggling and thrusting deeper onto Thel’s erection, close enough to wrap his arms around him, to pull up into a kiss as Ecthelion began to move inside him, hard and heated and tantalisingly slow.

Glorfindel sighed into Thel’s mouth, moaned in bliss as his lover pushed there, and there, waking waves of rapture, long, sensuous thrusts gradually coming faster, harder as Ecthelion responded to the hot, tight need encompassing him, Glorfindel’s love making him vulnerable and precious in his embrace, so that he controlled the animal need and made himself make love tenderly, kissing the soft lips and sliding his fingers into the tumble of golden tresses as the love he had for this fragile hero and the beauty of him drove him towards his completion and he gasped his love as he crashed into orgasm and felt Glorfindel surge and throb around him.

‘Ecthelion! Oh, Thel, love, Thel, I... oh, I love you, Ecthelion!’

‘My golden flower, I love you...’

Ecthelion slipped out of Glorfindel’s body, placing a gentle kiss of gratitude on his cheek, and allowed his golden one to turn onto his side, offering Ecthelion his back to be held close; it was his way, always, after Ecthelion had taken him, of showing his trust and love.

And of hiding his tears.

There were not always tears, not these days. Just now and then, when Fin was especially moved, or when the past lay hard on him and lovemaking purged him of it, then the tears came. Or from joy, sometimes. 

As it was, Ecthelion snuggled close against his lover’s back and waited. Soon, Glorfindel would be ready to talk, or he would allow Ecthelion to persuade him to talk; they had to, the name of Triwathon was too significant between them not to be broached, however delicate the topic. Meanwhile, Ecthelion gave Glorfindel the safe haven of his arms and reminded himself how much he had to be thankful for, casting his mind back, way back...

Ecthelion drifted in memory...


	2. Remembering Days Spent in the Halls of Mandos...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ecthelion allows himself to remember...

...Given the circumstances, it was hardly a coincidence that Glorfindel and Ecthelion had both managed to die from Balrogs; it was, after all, the same battle and only the locations differed...

They met once more in the Halls of Mandos and each grieved the others death more than their own. To the eyes of each other, their forms were as their bodies had been, only showing the wounds to their fëar as visible scars; Glorfindel was a mass of red welts and pink burns and white wound-scars, hurt down to his heart by what he had seen and endured. By comparison, Ecthelion was unmarked, save for one short scar across his heart.

‘They will fade,’ Námo told them. ‘As your fëar heal, so will your marks fade.’ 

But after the Lord of Mandos had left them, Glorfindel sighed and shook his head.

‘Thel, it will take longer than all the world yet has before it for some of these to heal,’ he had sadly said. ‘But at least I am here, with you.’

‘Yes, we have that comfort,’ Ecthelion had replied.

Indeed, it had not been really very bad, for Námo was a genial host, a keen sense of humour on him, considering, grumbling about various elves haunting his library, but bringing them the best of the gossip; which Vala had said what to whom at the latest convocation and the like...

But eventually, came the day had when he hadn’t been laughing when he visited them...

‘I have good news, and I have bad news,’ he’d said. ‘Both of you, your time of penance is up. Indeed, Ecthelion, your time of restoration, too, is done; I have allowed you to stay to bear Glorfindel company while his fëa adjusts. But now, Glorfindel, you are needed in the world once more and you are sent forth to support the descendants of Eärendil in the coming struggles...’

‘But, my lord, Glorfindel is not ready!’ Ecthelion had protested. ‘He is still heartsick from the battle...’

‘And I see this, penneth, but the need is too great; not even I can deny the will of Mandos. But my heart tells me that it is not within my halls that Glorfindel will find his fëa’s restoration.’

‘May I not go, also, Lord, to keep my friend company?’ Ecthelion asked. ‘You say I am ready, after all...’

But Námo had shaken his head. ‘I am sorry, penneth, but the most I can offer you is the choice to stay here, where time may not seem to pass but will, at least, not drag, or to open the gates for you. Outside my halls you may find a place to make a home, for when Glorfindel returns. But I am told he must go unaccompanied, hard though it seems to you, and if you will accept my counsel, staying here will probably be easiest.’

So Glorfindel had to set out, alone, into a world changed from all that had been familiar. Unable to go with him, releasing Fin from his vows was the least Ecthelion could do.

‘I know you,’ he said. ‘I know your gentle nature, when you are allowed to show it. I know you need affection as much as another needs air and so, I grant you the freedom your fëa will need; if you find love, Glorfindel, embrace it, cherish it. Only I ask, when you are free to return, remember I am your fëa-mate. Beyond the seas, I will wait for you.’

‘Thel...no! I love you, I don’t want anyone else!’

‘I know. But perhaps you will need someone.’

*

In Námo’s peaceful halls, Ecthelion had waited for news of Fin’s ship; that Glorfindel would stay to die rather than sail had not occurred to him, so the day when Námo had led him to one of the quiet rooms where the newly-arrived rested, and he saw his beloved’s fëa there, sleeping his wounds away, he thought his heart would break... 

He sat at the bedside and held Glorfindel’s hand, even though the sensation here in Mandos was faint, a shadow of real touch, waiting until his healing was complete...

And this time it was complete, the welts and scars and burns from his previous death gradually melting away until it seemed as if they had never been there, as if Glorfindel had never been branded with whip and sword and flame and Ecthelion would have wept, had he been able, from relief to see his beloved so healed and wondered with not a little fear what had brought about such a wondrous cure...

Glorfindel sighed and his lips curved in a smile.

‘There’s a touch I’ve longed for,’ he said softly. ‘I’d know your hand anywhere, Thel, even here. Talking of which, what are you doing here, still?’

‘Waiting for you, of course. You look wonderful.’

‘I feel like I’ve been fighting dragons... oh, wait. I think I actually did...’

‘Well, you’d better tell me about it, then. And... did you...? you found someone... was he kind to you?’

Glorfindel turned away his head, and gave way to dry, aching sobs from which Ecthelion was unable to save him.

‘Oh, Thel,’ Fin said, ‘I am sorry, so sorry, I... we never meant to fall in love... I am so... and you are here and I feel awful...’

In love...? Ecthelion swallowed down his dismay. Of course there would have been love, he had told Fin it was all right... but he had not expected him to die, and somehow that was worse than Glorfindel having taken a lover, because it meant he didn’t know if Fin would have come back to him, had he lived, and that made all his thoughts wrong...

‘Never mind me,’ he said. ‘Fin, I’m just glad to see you. We can sort all that out later. Tell me, then. Tell me who loved you, who saved you...?’

‘S...saved me? He did, but how did you know?’

‘Your scars are gone, Fin. So whoever it was helped you find healing; I would know who to thank, should we meet, one day.’

‘Triwathon... he was... Yes, he was, very kind, always... when we met, he was the one needed consoling, but... Thel, it is over, finished, it was finished long ago, and I love you, I do, and I know you, I was coming home to you, and then I heard about the dragon...’

‘Coming home?’

‘Back to you, Ecthelion, my Lord of the Fountains of the Singing Waters, my forever-love. You are where my home is, always.’ Glorfindel frowned, trying not to cry again. ‘But, oh, Thel, I love you so much! We never meant to and well, I was only a little bit in love... But you...have you changed towards me?’ Fin said, his voice trembling. ‘Is it too much for you to bear, I...?’

‘Hush, love, no, I haven’t changed... you are still my fëa-mate, my forever-love... I am only sorry you had to ask...’

‘You didn’t – that’s the first time you’ve called me anything but my name since I woke. I thought...’

‘Only because you were talking of another who cared for you; I did not want to sound possessive...’ 

Or insecure, Ecthelion realised. He hadn’t wanted Fin to think he doubted him, not for a moment. And no, he couldn’t like that another had held his beloved, that he had died in someone else’s arms, that he had not been able to offer the comfort and solace this Triwathon had... how could he? But it was over, Fin had said so, and it had ended before his death. So there really was no reason to feel this great, crushing hurt that threatened to drown him... Glorfindel was his for the rest of forever...

He was also looking at Ecthelion with pain in his so-blue eyes, and fear there, lest the pain inflicted by his admissions had been too great...

Ecthelion would have gathered him into his arms and smothered him with kisses, if he could. But it took all his focus just to feel the touch of hand on hand. Instead, he smiled, reached out to try and twine their fingers together, and began to speak, to cradle him with words instead, to kiss him with endearments.

‘Glorfindel, my Fin, I love you. You are the sunlight that bathes my fëa, you are golden, glorious, a shining leonine hero. You are my golden flower, my sunbeam, my light, and I love you, love you more than I did, because I freed you for your fëa’s sake and you returned to me of your own free will. You needed this Triwathon, and I am sure he needed you, too, and I... I am just glad to have you back. And I do not want you to think that you have to keep secret from me what passed between you... if you want to tell me what sort of ellon this one is, how you met, anything, then I will listen gladly to your tales, my love, and if it hurts me a little, don’t mind it; it will heal me, also, to know you’d been loved...’

So, of course, as Glorfindel recovered, he talked. He was guarded, to a point, not dwelling on the detail (and Ecthelion found he was grateful for his friend’s reticence; he had no wish to know about the bedroom, it was too much...) but even so, even just speaking of their friendship and its history, Ecthelion heard almost more than he wanted about the gentle fëa of the warrior Triwathon, how helping him had helped Fin. How they had lost sight of each other, and Glorfindel had slumped into despondency, how Triwathon and he had been reunited... how he had realised he would only hold the warrior back if he didn’t let him go...

‘So that was it, for a long time. And Triwathon had someone who loved him waiting,’ Glorfindel said. ‘When he’s ready, he will be loved.’

‘As you are loved, and have been always loved,’ Ecthelion had said. ‘But that was not the last you knew of him, it cannot have been?’ 

‘Well, we had news of each other... he’d send a note amongst the formal missives for me, I’d reply... just, how are you, killed any good Balrogs lately, sort of thing. He moved on and I... I thought I had, too. Even found another friend...’ Glorfindel shrugged. ‘The Silvans have a way of looking at things. Yes, there is that perfect fëa-mate for each and every one of us. But you might not find them straight away, so why not have fun seeking? Not that this other one was Silvan, but by then, they’d widened our outlook.’

‘So... you’re telling me you had two lovers...?’ Ecthelion said as Glorfindel shook his head and grinned.

‘No, not as such... Triwathon, yes. The other... he was a bed-friend, there was no real love there on either side. Just warm friendship... sorry. Is that too much?’

Ecthelion laughed, surprising himself as much as Glorfindel.

‘No, not at all... Just the opposite, in fact; it shows that, yes, there’s nothing for me to worry about where Triwathon is concerned; you were there for each other but you’ve both released the ties of your fëar...’

‘Yes. Oh, he was glad to see me when we did meet up again, but that might have been because he needed help with his dragon problem, but yes, I realised I was over him, Thel. And now I’m back with you. I... I know it must hurt, even though you released me, but...’

‘You needed to do this, Fin. And I think, had I not freed you, you would have needed to do it anyway. I think you probably would have tried not to, and only succeeded in damaging yourself more. This way, at least there’s no guilt or secrecy.’

‘I wonder how long I’ll need to spend in reflection this time?’ Fin asked. ‘Because I really, really want to hold you, Thel, to... well. And just think, when I do leave here, I’ll – we’ll both be in fresh bodies... untouched... a new start for us both... Virgins, I suppose...’

Ecthelion made himself grin as he sighed, and fluttered his eyelashes.

‘You will be gentle with me, won’t you?’ he asked.

Glorfindel laughed and tossed his hair.

‘Ai, Thel! I was going to ask you that...!’


	3. 'A Little Hug...?'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion and Glorfindel prepare to meet the ship...

Ecthelion curled against Glorfindel’s warm back. Of course, their time in the Halls had been very long ago, even in elven terms; Glorfindel’s second death had taken place during the early centuries of the Fourth Age and, in the round world to the east, it was now more than two millennia into the Sixth...

Yes, there had been times when it had hurt to think of his bright flower in someone else’s arms, and he had to struggle to remind himself that no vows had been broken, after all... but the love between them was stronger than ever. It was only that sometimes, it had hurt to think his love had needed someone and he had not been there...

But the years had rolled out and they had built the villa and shaped their lives around it – for, of course, Fin had to be near the sea and close to the harbour so he could watch for ships – the pain had lessened and in time revived only when there was a vessel on the horizon, and then, ah, then Glorfindel’s hopeful expectation would be like knives in Ecthelion’s fëa; Thel would be in an agony of anxiety, right up to the moment when the new arrivals disembarked without Triwathon amongst them, and he had to hide his furtive relief and cope with Fin’s disappointment instead. 

But no matter who arrived, Fin would always want to go to the welcome party; there had sometimes been news of Triwathon, at least in the early days. And Glorfindel of Gondolin, the famed Balrog-Slayer was always assured of a welcome amongst the new arrivals, so that, even though Triwathon may not have arrived, Fin’s self-worth was always bolstered and he and Thel would return home with plenty to talk about and the certainty of a lively few days ahead while the newcomers settled in.

It was only later, once everyone had dispersed and the shore was empty once more that Fin would be in danger of falling into despair as he scanned the horizon for another ship to chase...

Balanced against the possibility of Triwathon not coming, this time, was the thought that perhaps he might, and perhaps not married, perhaps he would arrive very, very pleased to find Glorfindel there to welcome him, and what then would Ecthelion do?

Yet there was one thing of which Ecthelion was certain: Fin loved him. And he loved Fin; if Triwathon was on this ship, surely their love would count for more?

Glorfindel sighed softly and Ecthelion held him close.

Looking back now, he almost wished he’d told Glorfindel, fine, but that’s enough, don’t mention Triwathon again, not once we leave the halls. Not in the home we’ll make together. Not now you’re back, now you’re mine and I’m yours again... 

But Glorfindel was a talker, he needed to remember, to reassure himself he had been loved, even though he had been loved before, and was loved still, by Ecthelion, that wasn’t how his battered fëa worked...

And as for Triwathon, with his Silvan beer-games and obvious-even-at-second-hand adoration... well, how could Ecthelion mind? For when Glorfindel had left the Halls of Mandos for the second time, his skin was perfect. Unblemished, peach-fuzz soft, fragrant, delicious... the only mark of damage to his hröa was a small scar at the base of his hairline... Triwathon had been a kind caretaker.

True, the Silvan had sometimes felt almost like a third member of the household, talked about, discussed, honoured, even. Expected each time a ship was sighted, at each disembarkation, it had been, ‘Do you think Triwathon is aboard?’ or ‘When my friend Triwathon gets here, can we invite him for supper? With his Parvon, of course; he’s bound to be married to Parvon when he arrives...’

The ships had grown fewer, less frequent, and Glorfindel’s excitement each time had become more manic, more extreme. While Ecthelion once might have dreaded Triwathon’s advent, this time he almost prayed for it; if the Silvan who had saved Glorfindel’s fëa did not come soon...

Privately, Ecthelion wondered how many more times he could bear to watch Glorfindel put himself through this; the burning excitement, the despondency... as if seeing it was not difficult enough, it fell to him, always, to pick up the pieces and put his golden love back together again afterwards...

With another sigh, Glorfindel turned over and cuddled in.

‘Thank you, Thel,’ he said. ‘I needed that. Needed you.’

‘You’re welcome, my flower of gold.’ Ecthelion pulled Fin across his chest, kissed the bright hair. ‘So... are we going to wait until the welcome party has greeted the ship before we go to see? Or do you want to usurp the pomp?’

‘Could we?’ Fin said. ‘If... if Triwathon’s not on board, I don’t care, but if he is... Thel, I never... You’ve been so good about it...’

‘Shush. Yes, of course we can. Perhaps not invite everyone to supper if there is a large company; we cannot feed more than a dozen or so at short notice, and it is a substantial ship, after all. But we can privately offer any hospitality you wish.’

‘Thank you, Thel. I do love you, you’re so understanding...’

‘Well, I love you, Fin. I want to welcome your friends, even your special friends...’ Ecthelion held him gently, kissed his temple. ‘Mind you, if Triwathon turns up suggesting we all share a drink together, any honey beer present will be served and drunk from the proper receptacles...’

This made Glorfindel giggle like an elfling.

‘Oh, Thel, the things you say!’

‘Well, what I say now is, perhaps you would like a bath so you can meet the ship with some outward appearance of tidiness...?’

‘I don’t think Triwathon would care...’

‘No, but I care; I want him to see how glorious you are in the sunlight of Valinor, how golden, how shining; I do not want anyone thinking I neglect my beautiful, most-beloved husband.’ Ecthelion lowered his voice. ‘And you know there is plenty of room in the bathing pool; I will join you, and wash your hair, braid it for you, any way you like after, yes?’

Glorfindel sighed and smiled.

‘Yes, Thel, yes, please...’

*

Of course, they didn’t just bathe... Ecthelion had been Lord of the Fountains in Gondolin, and his bathing room was a wonder of engineering, with a deep, wide pool into which a warm cascade tumbled and beneath the surface were cunning swirls of current to make the waters move interestingly against the skin... Ecthelion claimed it had beneficial effects on muscles worked hard in sparring practice, but really it felt delightful, especially when one’s fëa-mate was in the pool, too...

So another hour passed and at the end of it they were sated, and clean, and laughing, and if it seemed to Ecthelion that Glorfindel had done his utmost to spend all his passion, slaking his lust, well, it probably wasn’t in case Triwathon turned up and Fin found him his as outwardly attractive as ever; it was probably just Glorfindel being his usual amorous self...

He dithered over what to wear while pretending not to, and Ecthelion smiled to himself and helped.

‘After all, we do not know who will be on the ship; there are still some royal Sindar unaccounted for, not to mention sundry Noldor who were attached to Lord Cirdan’s household. So I shall make a bit of an effort, I think, just in case there is a king to welcome. And if nothing else, I know you like helping me out of my silks...’

Glorfindel ducked his head down and grinned.

‘Here,’ Ecthelion went on. ‘A white linen shirt shows up the gold of your hair and the rich tones of your skin and looks fresh and cool. These leggings fit you well without being quite obscene... but will certainly serve to show how fortunate an ellon am I...’

*

By the time they were dressed and Glorfindel had asked Ecthelion to braid his hair loosely in the style that said ‘married, very married, happily married, thank you,’ and they went out to the veranda again, the ship had drawn so near to shore that figures were discernible on the deck.

‘That looks like Cirdan!’ Glorfindel said. ‘It’s the beard... I don’t think I recognise anyone else... some of the clothes look very different, even from Erestor and Arveldir’s...’

‘They were the first in several decades, though. I suppose it is difficult to find traditional garments in the modern world; no doubt the new arrivals will be glad to change back to elven garb...’

‘I suppose so. It seems a pity, some of the legging-things look really nice...’

‘Hmm... I am looking at an individual with lovely shoes, an elleth, I think; I wonder if they have them for ellyn, too...? Oh, and I will thank you to keep your eyes off the legging-things, my golden one...’

‘I was only thinking you would look wonderful so... so outlined...’

Ecthelion laughed, and Glorfindel put his arm around him. 

‘Mind, Thel, I’m not sure that is an elleth; it looks a bit like someone an ellon I used to know...’

‘Oh...?’

‘Don’t worry, he was married... he didn’t have shoes like that then, though...’

For a moment they were still, watching the advance of the ship and trying to get another glimpse of the ambiguous elf with the lovely shoes, but then Fin stirred and glanced behind him.

‘There’s company. Not a welcome party, as such...’

From behind their villa, on one of the narrow paths that criss-crossed the dunes and the green sward behind it, a small company of elves hurried past. They wore the light blue robes of Lady Este’s healers, and were accompanied by no less a person than Elrond, son of Eärendil and formerly Lord of Imladris.

‘Someone on the ship must be hurt,’ Glorfindel said. ‘I hope it isn’t Triwathon... No, I know better than to interrupt the healers to ask, but, Thel...’

Suddenly anxious, Glorfindel turned in for comfort and Ecthelion held him, stroking his bright hair.

‘...and I know Triwathon might not even be on the boat, but, oh, if he is, and he’s hurt, or... or he dies...’

‘If he is injured, then the healers will help him. You know how it is here; there is healing for everyone. And if he were to die, then Námo will come and tell you, and you’ll be able to meet him at the gates when he’s ready.’ Ecthelion pressed a kiss to the top of Fin’s head and went on more lightly. ‘And from what you’ve told me, Námo wouldn’t need to keep Triwathon long, as good a fëa as he seems to own... but come, you’re making up sad stories, again. There is nothing to base this on, except your own anxieties. Shall we go into the house, or would you like to begin walking – slowly – up the beach?’

‘You’re right, of course.’ Glorfindel took a breath and made an effort to shift his thoughts away from gloom. ‘Thel, I... if he is on the ship, if he’s all right, could I...? When I greet him, after all this time, after everything, I can’t just bow and say ‘Welcome to Valinor’... it would seem cold... or it might... might look as if you minded, and...’ 

Ecthelion steeled his nerve and smiled his most reassuring smile.

‘We have established between ourselves that of course I do not mind you greeting your old friend, love... but what exactly do you have in mind...?’

‘Well... would a little hug be... be too much...?’

‘I think, if he seems willing, a hug would not be inappropriate,’ Thel said, giving away his peace of mind, for Glorfindel had many interpretations of ‘hugging’ and quite often Ecthelion had ended up naked and in bliss from what had been claimed as ‘a hug, just a little hug, I do need a hug, but maybe with extra mouth...’ Remembering this, he added a rider. ‘Perhaps not hugging with lips, though... he may well have his husband watching...’ 

And Glorfindel would certainly be watched by his own husband... 

‘Oh, Thel! That’s our game, just yours and mine...! And I wouldn’t want to upset anyone...’ He cuddled in again. ‘Especially not you, Thel.’

‘I know, my love, I know. And I’m not jealous, I wouldn’t have you think... mind, if anyone, anyone takes liberties with my golden flower, I will not be answerable... now, shall we go? Or would you like to go inside for a little hug first...?’

Glorfindel grinned, recovering some of his exuberance as he took Ecthelion’s hand and set off towards the quay.

‘Better not,’ he said. ‘We’d miss the ship!’


	4. 'Always Been That Way...'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Glorfindel and Triwathon are reunited...

Glorfindel and Ecthelion followed roughly after the party of healers, but kept to the edge of the beach until they were in sight of the jetty and in a position to watch as the ship docked. Glorfindel came to a halt at still some distance away from the quayside.

‘Fin? We can go nearer, if you wish...’

‘Not yet. There’s the healers to think about, if someone’s hurt, I don’t want to crowd them... and... maybe... bit shy this time, Thel...’

Ecthelion didn’t laugh, though any who didn’t know Glorfindel as well would have boggled at the idea. Instead, he nodded.

‘Yes, I think I understand. But do you see anyone you know? I have been so long from Middle Earth I don’t expect to recognise anyone...’

‘Well, Cirdan, of course... Oh, one of the fellows working there, he’s a Silvan... Merenor, I think... and... and he was around when Triwathon was, oh, Thel...’

‘Those on board appear to be waiting for something; see how they line the way...’ 

A little commotion on the vessel; it seemed as if there was a row of elves keeping others back. Suddenly a tight cluster of elves emerged; a chestnut-haired ellon carrying a blond elf in his arms, a flame-haired elleth hurrying alongside... behind, a very tall elf with an imperious air and long, silver blond hair followed... Glorfindel drew in his breath.

‘I think the one being carried is Legolas, the prince of the elves of Ithilien... behind him, his father Thranduil, king of Eryn Lasgalen, back in the day...’

‘That’s Oropher’s son?’

‘The same, yes. He has a look of his father.’

‘I only knew him in the Halls, of course; I do not think any of us are at our best dead...’

The one bearing the prince set him down and Ecthelion watched as Elrond advanced from the healers’ party. It appeared that something about his ministrations were unwelcome, the elf who had carried the prince so gently threw a punch with perfect accuracy and Elrond fell back, nose bleeding. Raised voices, the words ‘Noldo pervert!’ carried on the breeze.

‘Oh, I know who that is!’ Glorfindel said with sudden recognition. ‘It’s Govon, Legolas’ husband... not the first time he’s thumped our Lord of Imladris... Oh, but look, the prince is stirring...’

The healers closed in and began to move off, the excitement over. Suddenly Glorfindel clutched at Ecthelion’s arm and squealed like an elfling, bouncing up and down as if he were on springs.

‘It’s him, Thel, it’s Triwathon! There, just on the jetty, long, dark hair with flames in, next to the tawny-headed ellon – that’s Parvon, but... oh, Thel! Triwathon’s here, he really is, he’s all right! He’s all right!’

Ecthelion gave Glorfindel a quick, fervent squeeze and realised he was actually glad the moment was here at last; the thought of nursing Fin through another disappointment... 

‘Well? What are you waiting for? Go and say hello, my golden pe-channas!’

‘Thel... thank you!’

With no further prompting Glorfindel launched himself at the side of the dune, sending a slur of hot, dry sand away from beneath his feet and dragging him down so that it took twice the effort to progress that it should. Ecthelion shook his head and detoured to the path, arriving just in time to reach out a hand and pull Glorfindel to the top of his dune.

‘Really, Fin! You are an elf, light enough to run over snow and not leave a footprint; you’re making terribly hard work of a little hill of sand...’

‘Oh, but, Thel...!’

Ecthelion laughed and shook stepped back to admire how his husband stood outlined in the sun, strong and gleaming and entirely beautiful as he hailed the ship.

Heads turned towards him. Ecthelion saw the dark-haired ellon reach out to his companion, to touch hands for a moment, and even at this distance he could see the affection between them... well, good; it would mean that finding Glorfindel happily married would not be a disappointment to the, admittedly handsome, ellon now turning to look with delighted recognition towards Fin.

‘Triwathon!’ Fin bellowed. ‘Triwathon!’

A pause as the ellon made a few tentative steps towards the dunes, and Glorfindel shouted out again.

‘Triwathon! Is that you, Honey-beer?’

Now the ellon began to head towards Glorfindel, who hurtled himself down from the dune to close the distance between them. Ecthelion gathered his dignity, and followed.

Behind Triwathon, he could see the other ellon, the probable husband, Parvon, watching with anxiety... well, Ecthelion would not be seen to be anxious, he would not betray his sudden fear that Glorfindel would get swept away in the moment...

Not quite strolling, he extended his stride until he was near enough to see the reunion, not too close to intrude.

Triwathon was loping now, closing the last of the gap, calling out.

‘Hir-nin, iphant-nin!’

Ecthelion just had time to hear his beloved being called Triwathon’s old one, and the two former lovers met, Glorfindel catching Triwathon up in a whirling, happy hug, hiding his face until they broke back and Triwathon spoke.

‘Ah, but it’s good to see you... you look amazing, my dear iphant!’

For a moment it looked as if all would be well. But then Glorfindel leaned in again, mouth shaped as if for a kiss...

...and everyone watching, Triwathon’s face changing and it looked as if he would push Glorfindel away...

It would break Glorfindel’s heart to think himself rejected...

Ecthelion steeled himself into an expression of amused tolerance and broke into the moment, pitching his voice perfectly across to his wayward spouse.

‘No tongues dearest, you promised!’

Glorfindel jumped back. Poor Triwathon looked towards the tawny-haired ellon, relieved, more than anything, Ecthelion thought... and, typical Glorfindel, it took him only a heartbeat to regroup, to grin and throw his arm around Triwathon’s shoulders.

Ecthelion approached, trying not to appear hurried. Manners decreeing that any potentially-aggrieved lover be soothed first, he bowed towards Triwathon’s friend and made a languidly fulsome apology, referencing Glorfindel as his old war horse, a term of affectionate teasing between them for millennia... but it was not until Ecthelion raised his voice and mentioned Glorfindel as one with no restraint that his spouse recovered enough to come over, bringing his old friend with him.

‘Ecthelion, look! It’s Triwathon!’

Everyone was looking, of course... well, Ecthelion thought, what was new? Glorfindel had always drawn the eye, centre of attention whether he wanted it or not, used to being larger-than-life, the legend, the Balrog-slayer...

...there were important persons in the audience, too; the tall, silver-blond ellon Fin had pointed out as Thranduil, the Elvenking, a contingent of haughty Noldo arrivals (and, really, Ecthelion had no patience with them, so very superior these modern elves considered themselves...) and interested Silvans all around...

...so what should really have been a private reunion was become a performance for the benefit of all...

'I thought it must be,’ Ecthelion said, laughing, ‘Otherwise I wouldn’t have let you take such liberties with him!’ 

He tipped his head politely to Glorfindel’s friend. 'You're the one who saved him from the world, at last, and from himself. You restored him and I have ample cause to be grateful to you.’

'My lord Ecthelion.' Triwathon bowed. 'Thank you for your gracious words. It was, forgive me, my pleasure.'

Although the cheek of it made him stare for a moment, Ecthelion was not at all offended at this impudence, much to his own surprise. Instead, he found himself warming to this attractive Silvan who now grinned and introduced his fëa-mate with an easy assurance that couldn’t be entirely natural, surely...?

‘...forgive me, Master Parvon, if I was a little too enthusiastic,’ Glorfindel was saying, ‘but I’ve missed him so very much! Truly, I'm very happy for you both.'

At last Fin released Triwathon and came over to Ecthelion, looking up almost shyly.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry if I worried you; I just needed to remember it, all of it. By hugging.’

By hugging, indeed? Ecthelion choked back a laugh, contenting himself with a tolerant smile as he draped an arm around his husband’s neck. He pretended impatience, but his tone was teasing as he sighed.

‘Good, fine, very well... but if you attempt to do the hugging with the lips again on an ellon not myself, it will be the Námo Special for you, beloved! Now, Triwathon and Parvon did not arrive alone... who else is there for us to welcome – properly, formally, welcome, that is? No. More. Hugging. With. Your. Mouth...’

Each word was emphasised with a small kiss on Glorfindel’s nose, a gesture of affection far more intimate and telling than the most overblown and passionate of kisses would have been, and when Ecthelion finished Fin grinned up at the Lord of the Fountains, widening his eyes in mock-surprise, playing to his audience... 

‘Are there others?’ he asked. ‘And so there are! Forgive me, I was distracted... well, here’s my friend Nestoril, a healer, and that’s Thranduil the Elvenking...’

It was the perfect opportunity to move themselves away from being centre of attention, and so Ecthelion ghosted a wink down at his beloved as he drew in a sharp breath, looking at Glorfindel with every appearance of astonishment.

‘There is royalty present, and you rush for a cuddle without bowing first? Really, Fin, what has become of your manners?’ He inclined his head and spread his arms in formal greeting towards Thranduil. ‘My lord king, your pardon, I beg... be welcome amongst us, you and your family and your court and warriors... if I may be of service...?’

‘We are at something of a loss, Lord Ecthelion, as to procedure...’

It was easy, then, for Ecthelion to explain, to indicate the approaching official welcome party and to subtly shift expectations away from him and Glorfindel. His irrepressible flirt of a husband was currently exchanging pleasantries with the wearer of the beautiful shoes Ecthelion had so admired from a distance... not an elleth, in fact, most definitely an ellon in the modern clothing, so presumably such footwear would be acquirable, perhaps...

Suddenly all the Silvans on the ship were heading for shore, the welcome party was converging, and Glorfindel looking a little lost around the eyes. Ecthelion took his arm and drew him to the edges of the gathering.

‘There, they’ll soon be settled, Fin. Then we can join the party and you can catch up on more old friendships...’

‘Can’t we go home, Thel?’ Glorfindel said in a little burst of anxiety. ‘Just go home and lie down and... and forget all this, just spend time together?’

This apparent turn of heart didn’t really take Ecthelion by surprise. He gave Fin’s arm a gentle squeeze and led him a little way along the strand until they were out of even elven earshot.

‘I know you, Fin,’ he said. ‘And you’ve lost your sparkle, of a sudden. So tell me, my golden flower, what’s up? You know I don’t mind your old friendships, even with very good friends...’

Glorfindel sighed.

‘It wasn’t... well, it’s... Triwathon’s face, Thel. I know I forgot myself, I was going to... maybe, but I... his face, Thel, he looked frightened and... and he was going to push me away, and I... it was awful to think...’

So that was it...

‘But, Fin,’ Ecthelion said, ‘I was watching, be assured my sunlight, I was watching most closely... and I saw surprise, perhaps a little shock... not fear. And it minded me of... have you never seen one of Oromë’s hounds pouncing with affection on an unsuspecting Silvan, the look on the elf’s face when so greeted...? Just the same, a mixture of surprise, an urge not to offend, but more fervent than that, a wish not to be pinned to the ground and have their faces licked half off...’

For a moment Glorfindel stared.

‘You... that I would... slaver over Triwathon like a hound...?’

Ecthelion grinned.

‘Only a thought,’ he said, relieved that in his stunned outrage, Fin had forgotten to feel sorry for himself. He leaned close to lower his voice and speak intimately into Glorfindel’s lovely ear. ‘Although you can pin me down and lick me any time, my flower...’

‘I... can I really? Oh, Thel...’ Glorfindel brightened a little, but soon was looking unsure again. ‘If we set off for home now, we could try that before the housekeeper comes to cook supper...’

‘Do you not want to stay and see your friends settle in? There are others whom you know, it would be a good opportunity, before the company considers dispersing...’

‘But, Thel... it’s... I don’t know if I can face him again, not now....’

...and it would be so much easier to say, yes, but then, you never need to speak with him unless you want to, Valinor is a big place, of course, where is the problem? Instead, Ecthelion laid his hands on Glorfindel’s shoulders and looked down into his very blue eyes.

‘He is your friend, you are his friend, it would be such a waste to squander this chance! I know, I know you feel unsure, you fear you may have offended, but really, Parvon was not upset, and I was not worried... Triwathon, I am sure, was only startled, and as close as you were to each other once, he will be forgiving I am certain... after all, he cannot have been your special friend and not have noticed your effusive nature, your tendency to flirt...’

‘Flirt? Me?’

‘Like the worst of marriageable maidens, my darling, you are always so perfectly coquettish... and it is part of your charm that you do not even realise you flutter your eyes and primp your hair and flex your muscles and draw every eye to you... if you want to go home, we could, of course. But, my love, my sunlight, we always attend the welcome parties; it will be noted if we do not... I would have you be brave, if you can. Come back with me to the gathering, be magnificent and golden and let Triwathon and Parvon see that it is still just your way to be exuberant and larger than life. If you do not, they will assuredly wonder at it and perhaps come to believe you are ashamed, or even that I am ashamed of you, and that may make it harder for us to befriend them.’

Glorfindel took a breath and met Ecthelion’s gaze. He nodded fractionally and swallowed, but sighed.

‘I... lack courage, Thel. I, oh, I...’

Ecthelion led him along the shore and drew him into the lea of the sand dunes, sheltered from the sight and sound of the arrivals, masked by the hush and shush of the laughing waves sucking at the sand.

‘...but you’re right, I should, I could, but it’s just...’

Ecthelion slid his hands under Glorfindel’s hair to caress his neck as he silenced these verbal meanderings with a kiss, his tongue invading with gentle determination and Fin responded with a little whimper, clinging to him. Thel broke the kiss abruptly, dropping to his knees to press his face against the swell of Fin’s leggings.

‘You do not lack courage. You are Glorfindel of Gondolin,’ he said, tugging at the ties. ‘Lord of the House of the Golden Flower. The Balrog-slayer...’

‘No, Thel, a Balrog...’

‘THE Balrog... and Slayer of Dragons...’ He tugged Glorfindel’s erection free from his leggings and heard his beloved spouse hiss in his breath. ‘You. Hero, seer, conqueror...’

‘C...conqueror?’ Glorfindel gasped out.

‘Of many vanquished enemies. Of sundry hearts who yearn for your attention. Of my fëa.’

He took Glorfindel into his mouth with a sudden lunge of lips, his tongue swirling and dancing and Fin responded with a shudder of his strong thighs. Ecthelion swallowed, taking Glorfindel deeper into his throat, pulled out to hold the head of Fin’s erection carefully between his teeth as his tongued flickered over the rounded surface, his fingers coming to hold him firm as he slid his lips over, releasing him, and looked up to speak, hoping his eyes conveyed the love and trust and belief he had for his beloved fëa-mate.

‘You are Glorfindel; everyone wants to have you, or to be you. There is none to compare, there never was, there never will be, and I am most fortunate that you are mine. As I am yours.’ He bent to his task again, sliding his mouth over Glorfindel’s arousal in lingering love while his lover whimpered and stifled his moans, Thel’s arms curved round and supporting his thighs, fingers kneading into his buttocks as his clever, eager mouth worked and Fin gasped and thrust and tried to wait and spilled hot seed into Ecthelion’s mouth, quivering as he stilled and softened.

Ecthelion released him softly, sucked and licked him clean, tucked him in and tied his lacings before standing to nuzzle against his neck while Glorfindel held onto him and began a shaky, half-hearted protest.

‘Thel, anyone could have seen! We’re only just out of sight of the beach...’

‘And what would they have seen? Me, enjoying you, loving you? What’s wrong with that?’

‘Well, nothing, I suppose, but... Ow!’ Fin protested as Thel’s teeth nipped at his neck. ‘Thel?’

Ecthelion chuckled.

‘I seem to have marked your lovely throat. Oops. Or not; it says, Fin, you are cherished, you are loved, you are wanted, you inspire passion... So. Coming to the party?’

‘If I can walk...’

‘Well, put your arm around me; I will support you. There... better?’

‘Better...’ Fin flicked his hair, confidence restored. ‘Yes... we always go to the party...’

‘Always. We’re known for living near the quay, for being amongst the first to arrive and last to leave. And you always flirt without thinking, always. It’s just how you are; Glorfindel, so friendly he doesn’t realise how friendly he is. Always been that way.’


	5. 'A Very Warm Welcome...'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion and Glorfindel attend the welcome party...

Returning to the plain where the new arrivals were now gathered to feast and drink and be reunited with family and friends, Glorfindel and Ecthelion inserted themselves into the party as if they had never been away. The famed Balrog-slayer hailed former friends and acquaintances, making exuberant introductions between them and ‘Thel, my Ecthelion, my husband... oh, it’s nice to see you after all this time... How about a hug, for old time’s sake...?’

Any newly-arrived Silvan who might take exception to Glorfindel’s excessive friendliness had no cause to worry; it was just his way, after all, and there was Ecthelion present, a hand on Fin’s shoulder, an arm round his neck between such greetings, Glorfindel laughing up into his eyes and hugging against him as they progressed around the field, for Glorfindel did, indeed, have many old acquaintances amongst the new arrivals, ellon and elleth alike.

‘Thel, look! It’s Ness!’

‘Who?’

‘Nestoril, I told you about her, the healer I rode escort with? Thranduil was sweet on her, they said...’

Nestoril, having seen Glorfindel look towards her had left her companion the Elvenking and came across, smiling.

‘They said truly, my friend, we are lately married,’ she told him, eyes dancing as she extended her hands to pull him into a brief, affectionate, and entirely appropriate hug. ‘Oh, Glorfindel, it is wonderful to see you!’

‘And you, Ness, congratulations... your friend Feril was a bit worried about you, but you look fine... oh, this is my husband, Ecthelion...’

‘Yes? It is an honour to meet you, we heard so much about you when Glorfindel was staying with us...’

Ecthelion made a modest gesture; tonight was for Glorfindel and he would play down such of his own renown as had come down through the ages if it added to Fin’s glory...

‘There are many stories but most are exaggerated; Glorfindel is the hero of...’

‘...I seem to remember a contest he said you had invented... the king’s practice chamber was never the same again...’

Glorfindel burst out laughing. ‘Ah, Ness, the things you remember...’

For a heartbeat Ecthelion was utterly taken aback... of all the things to be known for amongst his husband’s former friends... and where...?

‘Fin? You didn’t hold a micturition contest such as we used to, not indoors...?’

‘It was magnificent, you would have been proud... anyway, Ness... how’s the prince? We saw him carried off by the healers...’

‘He will be fine now he is here, they tell us; he was near to fading, but I think seeing Govon hit Elrond brought him round a little...’

‘To be fair, it’s something many of us have wanted to do,’ Fin said. ‘He just has that sort of face... Oh, look, there’s Triwathon and Parvon! Shall we join them, Thel?’

It was exactly what Thel had hoped, that Fin would recover his nerve, and he knew his lover was back on form when he flopped down next to Triwathon with a laugh.

‘I’ve just seen Ness, she’s looking wonderful. Married to Thranduil now, I understand? Oh, she made Thel stare, she mentioned that contest we held, the one he invented... you know the one? Thiriston won by two yards and a jug and a half...’

‘In fact,’ Ecthelion said, playing along, ‘it was not really my invention; I remember Glorfindel suggesting it to begin with; it was only that the appellation Lord of the Fountains was deemed more appropriate...’ He smiled, allowing his expression to look just a little rueful. ‘But such a thing to be remembered for! Here I am, married to one feted for slaying Balrog and Dragon both, and I? My name is now forever linked to competitive urination...’

‘Oh, I think you’re remembered for being my friend too, Thel,’ Glorfindel said, accidentally helping Ecthelion’s self-deprecation along wonderfully. 

Parvon frowned, shaking his head.

‘Even in Eryn Lasgalen we heard the tales of the days before,’ he said. ‘And, be assured, Lord Ecthelion is remembered for many brave deeds; you were at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, I know. And there are tales that your warriors went into battle to the sound of flutes and pipes... Perhaps it is merely because Glorfindel came back, and so his stories were recounted more...’

‘Perhaps because he’s such a glorious reminder of the old days!’ Ecthelion said as Glorfindel preened and fluffed his hair. ‘Who could help but sing his stories in the hope of eliciting his approval? Ai, Glorfindel, love, it is no more than you deserve! Your name is feted for a reason, for your courage and sacrifice...’

‘Others made sacrifices too,’ Fin said. ‘And you, love...’ For a moment the façade dropped and there was his Glorfindel, the loving friend who had grieved for him more than for himself... ‘You gave up everything... and then more...’

Ecthelion made a dismissive gesture.

‘So many made sacrifices, so many had losses... Perhaps, after all, it is better to be remembered for something that makes people smile and laugh and raise their eyebrows...’

Glorfindel caught the mood and grinned.

‘Fancy a rematch?’ he said. ‘There’s plenty of room in the garden at the back... or on the beach, if you were worried about the lavender...’

‘No!’ Thel said, laughing. ‘No, Fin! It would only attract the attention of the Maiar...’

Triwathon grinned.

‘I remember the contest well, in fact... it took a little while for everyone to relax enough to participate; perhaps you are wise, perhaps here it might cause offence to those here who are not elves... ’

‘Oh, it isn’t that,’ Fin said. ‘It’s just they’d want to join in. And some of them are terrible cheats...’

When the laughter subsided Glorfindel looked from Triwathon to Parvon and back again.

‘So, tell me,’ he said, ‘what happened, after I... left?’

‘We regrouped,’ Triwathon said. ‘Rebuilt, steadied ourselves... Parvon and I married about two decades after, Master Merenor was our Witness... it was a wonderful time for us, then. Do you remember Master Merenor?’

‘Flirt with any ellon within reach, shocking, he was, but never meant anything by it... rather attractive fellow... Canadion’s father, yes?’

‘That’s he. I am sure he never realised... he was very kind, always...’

‘Did you have bunting? It would not have been a wedding without bunting...’

Parvon laughed.

‘In fact, we did. Master Merenor was in charge of the Department of Matters Matrimonial by then, and bunting came as standard... but I remember the day as if it were yesterday... the stars were huge for us, the forest listened to our vows... it was very special.’

‘Our own wedding was a little on the quiet side,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Thel waited for me in the Halls, and then when we left, Elrond was there to meet us with an invitation to join him in his New Imladris... I asked him if he would like to officiate at our wedding... funnily enough, he didn’t seem to want to and started trying to recant his kind offer of employment, too...’

‘If you know Elrond at all,’ Ecthelion said, ‘you can imagine how devastated we were at this...’

Triwathon burst out laughing, Parvon joining in.

‘So what did you do? Who officiated for you?’

‘Well, strictly speaking, we didn’t need anyone else involved,’ Fin said. ‘It’s not like a Silvan wedding, oh, Thel, they’re wonderful occasions, Silvan weddings! But, well, Námo had come to the door to see us off and to smirk at Elrond, and he offered to do it, there, outside his gates. It was nice. No bunting, of course...’

Ecthelion allowed his eyes to close as he drifted with the random direction of the conversation.

‘Of course, one can imagine the great gates of the Halls of Mandos bedecked and festooned... how lovely it would have been, Fin... perhaps we should ask to renew our vows there? With bunting?’

Triwathon snorted with laughter.

‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘I’m just imagining a conversation between our Master Merenor and Lord Námo on the subject... However, we’ve heard that many people like to renew their vows once they arrive here... and Erestor and Arveldir had a Silvan wedding at Imladris and then another in Eryn Lasgalen...’

Glorfindel nodded. ‘Of course, I remember their first wedding... they certainly liked their gift, kept thanking me for weeks after...’

‘What did you give them, Fin?’ Thel asked.

‘Some honey beer. And diagrams... which were not to scale but I don’t think they ever found out...’

An hour passed in drinking and eating and Glorfindel fluttering his eyes at Triwathon, eager to hear everything... and, really, Ecthelion thought, raising his glass and pulling Fin in to drink from it, who would have thought the phrases ‘after Parvon and I were married’ and ‘married to Parvon’ could be worked into conversation so many times...? Still, it was apparent that Parvon and Triwathon were very happy with each other, so any lingering fears that the Silvan might be pining drifted away... As for Glorfindel, Thel had never doubted his love, and everything he had done and said since almost forgetting himself in the heady moments of reunion had shown that Triwathon was just an old and dear friend. 

Glorfindel lifted his goblet and looked into Thel’s eyes.

‘Thank you for not listening to me earlier,’ he said. ‘We always come to the party, after all.’

‘Having fun, my golden flower?’

‘Wonderful fun, Thel. Just wonderful.’

*

Darkness fell and the group around them contracted and expanded, and towards the end of the evening Ecthelion looked up to see Thranduil, the Elvenking and Nestoril at the edge of the circle rising to leave.

Instantly Triwathon drew himself up.

‘If you will excuse us, Glorfindel, Ecthelion, Parvon and I must speak with our king.’

‘Of course, mellon-nin! Where are you lodging tonight? We have plenty of room, do we not, Ecthelion?’

‘We are grateful,’ Triwathon said swiftly. ‘But I am the king’s Commander of the Guard and Parvon his Chief Advisor. We must stay within call.’

‘Well, if you want to seek us out sometime – maybe take your middle day meal with us one day? Or supper, you could come for supper?’ Glorfindel suggested, ‘we’re along the coast about twenty minutes away in the white villa with the blue paintwork; you can’t miss it...’

Ecthelion got to his feet and pulled Fin up, his arm round him.

‘Really, you would be very welcome, both of you, as your duties permit, of course.’

‘Of course.’ Parvon inclined his head. ‘It has been... interesting, Lord Ecthelion. Good night to you both.’

Triwathon softened, reaching out a hand as if ashamed of his swift response to the invitation.

‘We’re grateful, truly. Glorfindel, it’s been wonderful to see you again, and to meet your husband; I can see how well life here suits you. We will see you soon.’

‘Really?’ Fin asked, unable to hide the delight in his voice. ‘That is, of course, you’ll be busy, but...’

‘Really, in fact,’ Parvon said. ‘There is a matter... not for the open air, not for tonight... so we will try to take you up on your offer of hospitality in the morning, if we may. For now, though, goodnight.’ He smiled. ‘I will admit, I was worried; I am Silvan, by tradition, we do not sail easily... and I wondered whether we might not have continued as we were... but our king and our prince needed us and now, well, I think we’re going to like it here. So my thanks – our thanks, that is – for a very warm welcome.’


	6. Of Hounds and Warhorses...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Glorfindel realises how badly he nearly behaved...

Glorfindel came out of reverie with a smile in his heart. Triwathon was here! Well, not here, in the villa, in his and Ecthelion’s bedroom, that would have been wrong... but here, in Valinor, at last! Not faded beyond recovery, not dead, not hurt and not single; Triwathon was married, and loved, and that was perfect and just as it should be because Glorfindel was married and loved too, and now he need not worry about Triwathon ever again. No more would he look out every hour to see if there was a ship on the horizon, no longer would he wait with a dread mixture of hope and fear churning in his heart, no more days of chasing after the ships...

Whatever was he going to do with all the time he’d save?

He turned his head with a smile to vouchsafe this sentiment to Thel, but his husband was still asleep, deep in reverie.

It was unusual for Thel to still be sleeping when Fin was awake; they were attuned to each other, and Fin was usually the slugabed... 

He rolled onto his belly and lifted his head to look at Ecthelion’s magnificent face... the pale skin, translucent as the most beautiful of mists, the lush, full mouth, the dark arches of his perfect brows...

What was this?

Down one porcelain cheek was a narrow, shining track as if a tear had escaped and fled Ecthelion’s eye, and between Thel’s brows were two tiny lines so one might think he’d fallen into reverie frowning. His eyelids, half-open as they were, had a faint blush to them and under Ecthelion’s sleeping eyes were drifts of purple shadow...

Glorfindel swallowed. But Thel was immortal, fully-elven and should be untouched by time; this must be a symptom of something pressing on his fëa, a disturbance to his peace...

Oh. His fault, it had to be... Yesterday, how hard must it have been for Thel to see him greet Triwathon, even though it was over ages, millennia ago? And how kindly Thel had greeted the Silvan, how generous he’d been, how determined not to let Fin make a mess of things...

Glorfindel had never been as eloquent as some of his kin. No poet, no minstrel, yet he usually managed to say what he wanted. 

But when it came to Thel, he was stumped, every time. He would find a few words about moonlight and silver and beauty, but it never came anywhere near the depth of his feelings, the reach of his love, his admiration for his most beloved husband. It hadn’t stopped him trying, but Thel could reach out and stroke Glorfindel with words in a way Fin was sure he could never meet.

One thing he did know, though, was that this was where his soul rested, with Ecthelion.

‘I love you, my Ecthelion,’ he said softly, and the full lips curved, the beautifully-lashed eyelids closed and opened again, the inner eyelids sliding away as Thel stretched lazily.

‘I never doubted it, my flower of gold.’

Glorfindel shook his head, even though the appellation made him want to smile.

‘That’s not what you called me last night...’

‘Did I not? I remember many endearments, I called you my golden one, my beloved, my...’

‘You likened me to one of Oromë’s slavering hounds...’

‘... and when we got home you pinned me to the ground and licked my neck until I almost burst from laughing...’ Ecthelion smiled. ‘It was delightful.’

Glorfindel caught himself grinning. Yes, it had been delightful... it had started off silly, though, with him pretending to be an eager hound, pouncing and licking at Thel’s face, and then a whiny puppy wanting affection, then laughing and lapping at his throat... and the mood had changed as he found himself getting very interested in some of Thel’s more secret places with his tongue, and the laughing and silliness had turned to gasps and moans and then, finally, Thel had pushed towards him, onto him, and Glorfindel had buried himself in the wonderful, hot depths of his husband...

‘Oh, it was delightful indeed...’ Glorfindel sighed and came back to the moment. ‘Except, really, I was thinking of something else. What you called me in front of Parvon...’

‘Parvon? That really very charming ellon with tawny hair and a lovely, soft voice...? That fellow? Triwathon’s sweetheart... now, what was it...?’

‘You said I had no restraint!’

‘Well, you do not; it is one of the many, many things I love about you... Ah. And then I do believe I may have referred to you as my old war horse...’

‘That was it! And you know what you have to do with a war horse, Thel?’ Glorfindel paused for a moment and then looked a challenge into his husband’s eyes. ‘You have to ride it. Hard.’

‘Oh, Fin, my love, I do believe you’re right!’ Thel sat up in one swift movement, the sheets sliding away from his lean, strong body as his hand delved under the covers to caress Glorfindel’s groin. ‘What do you say we get ready for action, then? Oh, but you already are ready...’

‘For you, my Lord of the Flowing Waters, always...’

Ecthelion leaned across Glorfindel’s broad chest and bent to kiss him, still smiling as he reached beyond for the flask of oil. He trickled oil onto Fin’s fingers and curled the slicked hand around his own erection, his eyes grazing the soft and beautiful body under his.

...So perfect...

Just for a moment he faltered. He’d seen the scars to Fin’s fëa, had known his beloved would go out into the world with those marks seared on his flesh... but he had never touched them or brushed soft lips over them...

But they had been both of them new-made when they left the Halls of Mandos, there was no need for this strange regret, not when he got to love Fin whole and healed and softly perfect, the only mark on him under his hair, testament to his grief at Thel’s death, even as the scar Ecthelion bore across his heart spoke of his pain when he had learned Glorfindel had died, too...

He nuzzled Fin’s throat, licking over the now-fading love-bite, whispered his love and his intent and Glorfindel gasped and bucked his hips before Thel moved to allow his lover to roll onto his knees. Fin raised his rounded, firm buttocks with a taunting wiggle that just begged for a light, laughing slap, and Ecthelion shook his head with a smile, unable to resist Fin’s playfulness, and claimed the glories waiting for him with grateful delight, wrapping his arms around Fin’s waist as he eased smoothly into his heated, snug centre. Glorfindel snuggled back onto Thel with a moan, taking him deep, deeper, deepest and his golden head dipped forwards, exposing the small scar. Ecthelion clutched at him, stretched to place a kiss there, on the raised skin, making Fin shiver.

‘Thel, oh, Thel, I...’

Ecthelion kissed down Glorfindel’s spine to linger his mouth between Fin’s shoulder blades while one hand encompassed his erection, moving with slow strokes as he tried to pace his thrusts in time. Heat built in his body, tightening his loins as Fin quivered and shuddered under him, clutching suddenly around him, pulling and spasming as he came, coating Thel’s hand with hot ejaculate as the moment swirled wide to encompass Ecthelion too, and he released into Fin’s body with a cry, awash with bliss.

Today they lay facing each other, Fin looking into Ecthelion’s eyes and Ecthelion lost in a sea-sky of blue.

‘Not bad for an old war horse, eh?’ Fin asked with a grin.

‘Not bad at all,’ Ecthelion told him, smiling. ‘Stallion-Fin is wonderful... but Hound-Fin is fun, also... I really do not know how I would choose between them...’

‘Ai, if you bring out the beast in me, you don’t get to pick which one...’

Ecthelion laughed, and Glorfindel reached for him, pulled him on top of his body and began kissing him as if it was the only thing in the world he wanted to do.

In fact, it was.

*

But eventually it was time to rise, and bathe, and be distracted again, and finally to dress. They broke their fast in the garden behind the villa, watching the fountain bouncing spray into the sky and creating rainbow droplets as it played. 

Glorfindel broke soft, white bread and dipped it in honey before feeding it to Ecthelion, who accepted the attention with a grin, steadying his wrist and licking his fingers clean of every drip of honey. Fin shivered, his eyes half-closing.

‘Ecthelion, you are insatiable!’

‘Glorfindel, married to you, why would I not be?’

Fin laughed, but then sobered a little, catching Ecthelion’s hand in his.

‘I was worried about you earlier, Thel,’ he admitted. ‘All this with Triwathon... it can’t have been easy... I thought I saw a tearstain on your face...’

Ecthelion covered Fin’s hand with his.

‘Perhaps you did,’ he admitted. ‘Perhaps sometimes the way we love is so moving I cannot help myself.’

‘Not... not sad, then?’

Ecthelion dipped his head to their joined hands and carefully kissed each of Fin’s knuckles in turn, distracting his spouse and gaining a few seconds to phrase his reply.

‘Not sad. I was thinking – feeling, really... how beautiful you are, how lovely is Triwathon, how sweet-natured, and you – so wonderful – and you let him go... and he allowed you to walk away... and then you came back to me. And we were married outside Námo’s halls in our new-made bodies and we made ourselves a new life together, but the love we shared before was still there, unspoiled. And I thought how fortunate am I, and how much your love means to me, Fin.’

‘It was different there, Thel. It wasn’t our home, in fact, our Gondolin had been lost under deep waters. The lands were changed and the people... I was lonely for a long time.’

‘I know.’

‘And... I had offers, I wouldn’t want you to think I didn’t... but none of them appealed. It was well into the Third Age that I met Triwathon. He was hurting and I was sad and we looked and we knew there was healing here... I don’t know, maybe I’m making it up, looking back. Maybe after all I was just too lonely, too sad and he was the first one who didn’t see some legend from the old days... anyway. He’s here now, with his husband, and last night you saved me from being really, really stupid and made it possible for us to all be friends... thank you, Thel. I know I get carried away, sometimes, and don’t always see beyond my own nose...’

‘No, really?’ Ecthelion laughed, shaking his head and making his midnight hair shimmer in the morning sun, taking Fin’s breath away. ‘Oh, but, love, how could I not help? You’d waited for him for so long...’

‘And so have you, really. Now he’s here, and safe, and married happily, I can stop worrying about him... and you can stop worrying about me...’

Ecthelion threw back his head and laughed, feeling free, suddenly, relaxed and joyous.

‘Fin, my golden shaft of light, I will never stop worrying about you... only the reason for it alters... Now come, how shall we spend the rest of the morning? Apart from that, love...’

‘Couldn’t it be, ‘as well as’, Thel...?’

‘Now who’s the insatiable one?’

‘Married to you, do you wonder?’


	7. Of Beer and Gemstones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion and Glorfindel are visited by Triwathon and PArvon...

After they had finished eating, (and Glorfindel behaving somewhat scandalously on his knees beneath the tablecloth, much to Ecthelion’s delight) Thel once more brought up the question of what to do with the day. ‘We are potentially expecting company, of course, but if we were to go for a walk towards the camp, we would see anyone approaching the house...’

‘No, let’s stay home; you never know, I might have this sudden urge to throw myself at you and we would need to be near a bedroom if that happened...’

‘The housekeeper is busy in the villa, you would have to restrain yourself anyway...’

‘A pity.’ Fin sighed. ‘Well, I seem to remember you were working on one of your lovely drawings...’

‘Yes... I think it will keep, however; it is a calm composition and I am too lively this morning...’

‘And I suppose it’s too early for you to play for me?’

‘Fin, my sunlight, it is never too early to play for you.’

Ecthelion went inside to fetch his flute, and they sat on the veranda in the morning sun, Thel on the top of the three steps up, Fin perched on the lowest, looking up and leaning against the side rail, his back to the trail to the quay.

Softly at first the notes drifted from the flute, meandering through the slow waking of the day before taking wing, suddenly, soaring high above the waves with the gulls, swooping for joy in the skies... Fin closed his eyes and breathed deeply out, surrendering to the mood... Almost he could hear the sunlight in the music, the rise of warmth through the day, the whisper of the breeze amongst the dunes... 

...the mood changed, leaping and laughing and dancing like bubbling waters, and Glorfindel opened his eyes to see Ecthelion’s own gaze smiling down at him over the instrument as his fingers moved in elegant, swift precision to hasten the music for a time before he began a sequence of traditional melodies, ones he knew were Glorfindel’s favourites so he could sing along if he so chose.

Thus Parvon and Triwathon found them, the music shifting into a lively drinking song and then a Silvan melody Ecthelion had heard a hundred times at the welcome parties, a simple tune with words that changed to suit the mood and Glorfindel joined in with the most often sung words.

_‘Heroes coming home_  
Heroes coming home  
There will be rejoicing for   
The heroes have come home...’ 

Ecthelion finished with a flourish before Fin could start on one of the many subsequent verses and lowered the flute with a bow, causing Glorfindel to twist round on his perch.

‘Ecthelion, look! It’s Triwathon and Parvon!’

Thel laughed.

‘Indeed it is; I have been watching our friends approach as I played and I thought that tune would give you a hint, beloved... Be welcome to our home, mellyn-nin!’

‘That was for us, then?’ Triwathon said as he and Parvon came up. ‘We are honoured indeed! I’ve often heard tell of your playing, my lord; the compliments fall short of your talents...’

‘I am grateful, Commander; I wonder though, who spoke so of me...?’

‘Why, your husband, of course!’ Triwathon said, smiling. ‘Usually when the musicians at Imladris were performing. Poor Lindir gave up playing the flute entirely, Glorfindel was forever saying, Ecthelion plays this tune so movingly, or, Ecthelion would play this at the festivals until the poor minstrel looked ready to stow his oboe somewhere most inappropriate...’

‘Well, it’s true, Thel plays the flute better than anyone, his fingering is perfect! But we’re not going to waste time being formal and stuffy about titles, are we?’ Glorfindel asked. ‘Can’t we just use our names, like friends do?’

‘Indeed, it is far too easy a day for formality,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Would you care to step inside? Will you stay to share the day-meal with us?’

‘That’s most kind. In fact, if it’s not too much trouble, we’d like to invite you to join us at the camp for the day meal, once our business is concluded,’ Parvon said. ‘Our king would like speech with you afterwards.’

‘Drinks, then, in the garden.’

Once seated at ease close to the fountain, the request for refreshments made, Ecthelion invited Parvon to elaborate on the Elvenking’s invitation.

‘For while I am most curious to know your king better, I do wonder whether his majesty is being sociable, or is there some way in which he requires our service...?’

‘It is true, Ecthelion, that our king has hopes that Glorfindel will remember former times of hospitality and so be moved, perhaps, to offer his aid... and of course, his majesty would not dream of slighting you, Ecthelion, by not including you in the invitation...’

‘Oh, we are being invited to help a king, how lovely!’ Ecthelion drawled with a lifted brow towards Glorfindel. 

His husband laughed.

‘Oh, Thel, don’t be like that! Thranduil did give me a home that time Elrond went too far...’

‘It’s not a command, of course,’ Parvon said hastily. ‘But it would set his majesty’s mind at rest... on the round world we have so lately left, we would have held the Yule-day feast tomorrow and our king intends to follow tradition for the sake of his Silvans.’

‘Of course, it’s the Night of the Names, tomorrow as well, isn’t it?’ Glorfindel said.

‘Indeed so,’ Triwathon said. ‘There is much to organise, and it is his majesty’s hope that you and your husband, Glorfindel, to be present at the Yule Feast and the Night of the Names. Later today we, our king and his inner circle, will ride out together towards the Halls of Mandos where it is known that our first king, Oropher, is languishing still in the Halls...’

‘Languishing?’ Glorfindel said, exchanging glances with Ecthelion. ‘I suppose that’s one way of putting it...’

‘Oh, Fin, darling, you came late to that party! You do not know the half of it!’ Ecthelion paused to recollect. ‘I was there when he arrived, after all, waiting for you, and as it turned out, it was a long wait... Námo thought Oropher and I could bear each other company...’

‘Really?’ Parvon said, his voice eager. ‘We two are too young to remember him; Thranduil is the only king we have ever known. But there are many tales of our first king...’

‘I liked him, and I am sure would like him still, were we to meet again.’ Ecthelion said. ‘At first, he was rightfully angry, and terribly broken by so many deaths. He blamed himself, of course, as kings will. But when he could forget his guilt and grief... and he was both very grief-stricken and very guilt-ridden when I knew him – he was an amusing and intelligent companion. It made a change from some of the conversation I’ve had in the Halls...’

Glorfindel laughed and swished his hair.

‘Oh, Thel, I know you love me and you used to love it when I was less than clever – it gave you a chance to show off...’

‘Yes, indeed so, my love... and I never doubted your intelligence... it just seemed so much more fun for you to hide it... well, we can go, if you like, Fin. I will admit, I liked what I saw of Thranduil... yes, we will be pleased to speak with your king, Parvon, and I have heard so much of your Night of the Names that it would be interesting to be more involved. Mind, there are not that many names left to speak; Lord Námo has visited more than once in recent times and bemoaned the lack of company...’

Drinks arrived, a flagon of beer fresh drawn with a light aroma of summer fruits. Ecthelion filled beakers.

‘To your health, mellyn-nin. I hope you will like the brew; one of our friends makes it and sends us a barrel now and again.’

The guests sipped.

‘It is delicious,’ Parvon said. ‘Fruit beer, who would have thought?’

‘This one is peach and raspberry. Fin here prefers honey brewed himself, but I favour this. ’ Ecthelion gave a sly glance at Fin who was burying himself in his cup. ‘So much easier to clean up when it spills...’

Glorfindel snorted peach beer across the table, his arms, even the long strands of his braids did not escaped and Ecthelion sighed and began mopping up.

‘... and as you can see, Fin is expert at spillage... this brew is so much less sticky to get out of hair, yes, Fin?’

Fin nodded, accepting a cloth and trying not to laugh at Ecthelion’s expression, determinedly neutral but his eyes dancing.

Triwathon gave a somewhat shamefaced grin, causing Parvon to snort with laughter, although fortunately for his own hair, he wasn’t trying to drink at the time.

‘Ai, there are no secrets amongst us, I see!’ Triwathon said. ‘But how else could it be?’

‘How indeed?’ Ecthelion said smoothly. ‘But with regard to the Night of the Names; I wonder if you know... well, no doubt you will, when you meet up with those old friends you remembered... how much of an occasion it was in the Halls...’

‘As yet, we haven’t reconnected; Parvon has a brother and I a friend...’

‘Yes, I remember Parvon’s brother... and you spoke to me more than once about your friend, Triwathon. You can say their names whenever you want, they left Mandos a long time ago,’ Fin said. ‘But Thel’s right; Námo used to make a big event of it. He would set aside an area, make it seem like the Greenwood, and everyone could gather. They all heard their names, you know, they were all glad to be remembered... and then...’

‘And then came the time Námo told us we might wish to attend,’ Ecthelion said softly. ‘I was never so proud of my husband as the moment I knew you had counted him amongst yourselves as an honorary Silvan...’

‘It was very moving, always,’ Fin said. ‘It’s hard to weep in the Halls – no body, no tears, but I managed it on the Night of the Names... thank you. And everyone.’

Triwathon gave an oddly twisted smile.

‘I expect you’ll be glad to have this, then,’ he said and pushed a little packet across the table towards Glorfindel. ‘Every year, you became part of our remembrances. .. do you still hear, once you leave the Halls?’

Glorfindel shook his head as he worked on untying the packet.

‘No, but when the Night of Names comes round, we think of the Silvans who remember us... oh.’

In his hand a huge, fat gemstone sat. It had a soft yellow tint to it, and at its heart some manner of fracture disturbed the clarity of its glitter.

‘Oh, Fin, that is so perfect!’ Ecthelion said softly. ‘It is bright, and golden, and just a little bit flawed, but in such a way to simply enhance its beauty...’ He looked up at his husband, his eyes glistening. ‘Just like you, in fact. The one who matched your fëa to this gem truly knew your heart.’ 

‘It was kept safe for many long ages,’ Parvon said. ‘But then mischance, the world changing, many gemstones were found when they should not have been and claimed for one or other of the ruling families of Men. Canadion and Thiriston made a short career of finding such misappropriated gems and recovering them. Of course, as far as the Men were concerned, they were the rightful owners and Canadion and Thiriston the thieves. They risked much, our friends, to restore this, and other stones, to the king. The gems were brought with us on the ship to give to the ones they commemorate.’ 

He lifted his beaker in salute and drained off his beer. ‘Our thanks for your hospitality and your friendship,’ he said. ‘But we have preparations to make back at the camp for the day meal. If we may tell our king you will be present...?’

‘We will come gladly,’ Ecthelion said with a glance at his husband. ‘Once my golden one has got the beer out of his hair, that is.’


	8. 'Not the Enemy...'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Triwathon meets up with another old friend...

Once Ecthelion had helped wash the beer out of Glorfindel’s hair and the golden one had changed into fresh clothes, Ecthelion took him by the hand and together they made their way towards the plain where the new arrivals had made their temporary camp.

‘It’s nice that they want us,’ Fin said. ‘That we were invited today and tomorrow, and at the Night of the Names too; it’s a big thing for Silvans, they don’t often talk about it with outsiders. Well, the living Silvans, that is.’

Ecthelion forbore from commenting that the invitation to the daymeal was simply a way for the Silvan king to request their service, presumably at said Night of the Names... Nor did he reiterate his earlier thoughts that it was entirely like a king to want service from those of whom he had no right to expect it. Instead, for the sake of Glorfindel’s self-worth, he laughed.

‘Of course we are invited! But I am sure it is you they want, my dear golden flower; you are known to them, a person they can respect, a familiar figure from the past who can help them now find their way into the future. As for me; well, it was courtesy that I was included, I think.’

‘It’s only because they don’t know you, Thel. Not personally, only by stories of Gondolin and its fall.’

Ecthelion paused and tugged Glorfindel’s hand so that his husband bumped against him, providing an opportunity to slide an arm round Fin’s waist and cuddle against him.

‘I don’t care for the fame, you know, I truly do not mind, my sunlight! Yours was the sacrifice that saved so many. True, it may have been the last in a list of sacrifices made by others, but you were the one who gave all their sufferings value... although the tales we hear of Elrond, it seems now a mixed blessing...’

Fin laughed.

‘Well, that’s true enough, but the lads turned out well... Thel... whatever the minstrels wrote, you know you are always my hero, my legend, don’t you?’

Ecthelion smiled and rubbed noses with his husband.

‘So what care I for the acclaim of the world when my own golden Fin says things like that? Your esteem is the only thing I care for, my light.’

‘I always thought Eärendil was a bit of a brat, actually,’ Glorfindel said as they set off once more, this time with his arm around Thel’s waist, Ecthelion’s arm round Fin’s shoulders. ‘I heard afterwards, in Imladris. One of those stories... you know the one, where Eärendil heard you were dead and he wept because who would make reed pipes for him now?’

‘Yes; I understand the story was often used to help younglings make sense of the sudden loss of their own kin... if Eärendil struggled with the notion of death, then it made it easier for the bereaved...’

‘Well, yes. But... there you were, gone, lost to everyone, your beauty no more, your voice silenced, Gondolin in ruins and little whiny elfling sulks because no-one can make him a whistle?’

‘Oh, Fin... I do hope you will say that to Elrond one day...’

‘Well, I’m rather saving that one for when he’s being especially annoying...’

They crested the ridge and came in sight of the Silvan camp; it was far larger, and more structured than it had seemed the previous evening. Now there was order, trestle tables pushed together in a long row to hold food supplies, low tables set out for eating a little way off. To one side, a more informal area was populated with little clusters of elves meeting and mingling and towards the south a little trail of Silvans could be seen approaching, many carrying bundles of supplies. 

Nearer at hand, a cluster of elves were gathered around Triwathon and Parvon, and when the latter saw them, he approached and inclined his head.

‘Ecthelion and Glorfindel, welcome! It seems there is no end of meeting old friends! Many more Silvans arrived this morning while we were visiting with you, and Triwathon is currently telling the newer visitors whom of their friends were on our ship, taking names and attempting to reunite old friends long sundered. But his majesty would like a few words with you before the daymeal, if...’

Parvon faltered and fell silent. He had gestured towards his husband as he mentioned his name, and so Fin and Ecthelion were looking in that direction, also. They thus had a clear view of Triwathon’s delighted expression as a tall and smiling Silvan detached himself from the group with which he’d been walking, abandoning his bundle to wave and call Triwathon by name. Triwathon himself dropped the documents he’d been holding and ran across to laugh and hug the new arrival.

‘Oh, there’s Maedon,’ Glorfindel said. ‘We know him quite well, Parvon, he’s... oh.’

Triwathon was looking into Maedon’s eyes as if lost there. Apparently oblivious that he was observed, he reached out to brush a strand of Maedon’s lustrous dark auburn hair behind his ear. 

Parvon tried to stifle a sigh and Glorfindel and Ecthelion exchanged glances before Fin nodded, loping a few strides towards the group and cupped his hands around his mouth.

‘No tongues, Triwathon!’ he bellowed. ‘I didn’t get a welcome like that, so why should Maedon?’

‘...and thus my Glorfindel shows his subtlety!’ Ecthelion said, putting his arm around Parvon’s shoulders in a gesture of support. ‘Believe me, I understand some of what you must feel at this moment. When Glorfindel and Triwathon met, your husband was mourning his friend’s death, so Fin told me.’

‘Ai! Ecthelion, if you can imagine... all those Nights of the Names where Glorfindel’s was not the only name to which I had to listen...’

‘Do not worry, Parvon; Maedon lives near the harbour and we have become something like friends...’

‘How can I not worry? For all I knew Glorfindel was important to Triwathon, at least I always knew he was your fëa-mate, not Triwathon’s... and now...’

‘Parvon, truly, there is no need for you to be anxious, I assure you... Look, look to my husband. And to your own.’

Triwathon had flushed, started, and given a small shake of his head as if surprised to find himself in so intimate a pose. He gave an embarrassed smile and composed himself, stepping away from Maedon to make a respectable distance between them, tugging at his tunic.

‘Glorfindel! You are earlier than I thought. As you see, I have found another old friend... do you know Maedon, my friend...? is Ecthelion with you?’

‘Yes, of course we know Maedon... in fact, he’s the chap brews our fruit beer... Ecthelion will be here in a little while... It’s good to see you again, Maedon. How’s your wife these days?’ Glorfindel asked in clear tones. ‘And all the little Maedons... how many is it now, six? Seven?’

Glorfindel had a loud voice in any case, when he chose, but had projected his words deliberately to carry. Parvon clutched at Ecthelion’s arm.

‘Maedon is married?’ he said faintly. ‘To an elleth?’

‘Yes, she is a nice lady. Very Silvan, and she laughs a lot and scolds Maedon into something like respectability. When you get to know her, she will tell you it was her idea to develop a brew that was more convenient than honey beer...’

Across the way, Maedon was laughing easily at Glorfindel’s remark.

‘No, no, we still just have the four little ones, Fin, although perhaps a fifth would be fun... Triwathon, welcome to Valinor! You must come for supper one night, tell me what you’ve been up to... well, I know some of it, Glorfindel’s almost as much of a gossip as Námo...’ 

‘Well, Thel’s around somewhere...’ Glorfindel said, deliberately casting round in the wrong direction. ‘I suppose I’d better make sure he isn’t being flirted at by one of these new arrivals. Some of these Silvans, you know... Ah. There he is and, oh look, he’s found someone to cuddle...’

The little group turned now to head towards where Ecthelion still had an arm around Parvon’s shoulder. He released him with a lifted brow towards Glorfindel’s questioning grin. 

Parvon gave a little, awkward laugh.

‘Maedon is married!’ he said under his breath, sounding happier, at last, Thel thought. ‘But... does Triwathon look disappointed, would you say?’

‘Bemused, perhaps; I would hazard a guess it is the mention of ‘wife’ rather than the existence of a spouse... Ah. It might be politic to look as if you hadn’t noticed anything to distress you; such matters can then be discussed at leisure between yourselves with less awkwardness...’

‘Thank you, Ecthelion... why do I feel you speak from bitter experience?’

‘Oh, not at all bitter, penneth – forever is far too long a time to harbour resentment for imagined slights and assumed jealousies. But people do love to gossip, and so if you must take Triwathon to task, best not to do it in public, or it will be round the harbour and out amongst the Noldor before you have time to kiss and make up.’

‘And... I do not know how... but tell Glorfindel I apologise for any... that is, that I know he is not the enemy.’

‘No more is Maedon, my dear friend,’ Ecthelion said gently, continuing in brighter tones. ‘So... curious smile... and you do have a lovely smile, you know, and your hair is such a rare shade, you really are as lovely as Triwathon, in your way...’

Before Parvon could reply with a comment that his self-worth was rather stronger than Glorfindel’s seemed to be, and he had no need of Ecthelion’s undoubtedly kind words, Triwathon was near enough to speak.

‘Parvon? If you have a moment, here is an... an old friend, one whose name you will know...’

Parvon managed to look almost normal as he turned to his husband; perhaps there was a slight flush to Triwathon’s face as he continued.

‘This is Maedon; we were in the guard together and were... good friends...’

‘Captain Maedon,’ Parvon managed a smile and a bow. ‘Yes, indeed, your name is known to me... not just from those Nights when my husband spoke of you in memory...’

‘I am honoured, indeed, to be remembered, outside of the Nights of the Names...

‘Yes, yours was a familiar name around the King’s Office at one time... poaching, was it not...?’

‘Ai, you have a long, long memory, Master Parvon! But all that is in the past, I am quite reformed...! When I heard there was a ship, and with Silvans on board, I had to come and see if my old friend Triwathon was on board... and so he was! Well, I am very pleased to meet you, Master Parvon... so you and Triwathon are married? I hope the Undying Lands will suit you both; I am sure my wife would love to meet you, and if you should need anywhere to stay while you decide where you want to settle, we have a spare room...’

‘That’s very kind,’ Parvon said. ‘In fact, Glorfindel and Ecthelion made us the same offer, so we need not trouble your lady, as busy as she no doubt is with your family... but as it is, Triwathon and I will be riding out with the king later today.’

‘Our thanks, however,’ Triwathon said. ‘Maedon, I would not have imagined you would marry an elleth! You seemed so determined not to!’

‘Only the ones my mother thrust at me; no, I’ve been lucky. We met in the Halls, of all places... well, you know what Námo’s like for finding everyone someone to talk to...’

Parvon took a deep breath, steeling himself.

‘Triwathon, I must escort Fin and Ecthelion to the king; will you look after Maedon while I do so? Perhaps find him a seat near us for the daymeal? That’s if you’d care to join us? Glorfindel, Ecthelion; the king is waiting...’

‘Of course,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Maedon, tell your lady the last brew was particularly good. Washes out really well...’

Once out of earshot of Maedon and Triwathon, Ecthelion spoke.

‘Fin’s invitation last night was sincerely meant,’ he began, ‘and if you and Triwathon should find yourselves in need of lodging, of course you would both be most welcome. We have an excess of rooms – Fin likes to watch the sunset, I prefer sunrise, so we swap chambers from time to time – but there are always two rooms spare for guests.’

‘Rog used to visit with a few of his friends,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Not seen him in decades, though... so yes, if you want to stay with us, Parvon, it would be good to have company.’

‘I am grateful. I do not know how long gone we will be with our king, or what will follow after. But if we may... perhaps it would be pleasant to live near the sea, at least for a little while.’

‘And don’t you worry about Maedon, either!’ Glorfindel went on. ‘His wife keeps him in line. Well, she has to; Oromë’s forbidden him from setting foot in his forests, no matter how reformed he claims to be, and he’s under threat that any misdemeanour will see him banished to one of the outer islands...’

‘So there are laws here!’ Parvon said. ‘We have often wondered how the Undying Lands are governed.’

‘Very gently, for the most part,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Those who leave the Halls of Mandos are considered to have atoned for past misdemeanours but not everyone overcomes their previous character traits; when Maedon heard of the hunting to be had in Oromë’s woods, he could not help himself, he claimed...’

‘Said it was all circumstantial; him, arrow missing from his quiver, a deer shot... no proof it was his arrow... but he was put on notice not to put himself in the same position again,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Not long after he met his lady and she tamed him a bit.’ 

‘I always found it odd that such a one could be the best friend of the Triwathon I had heard so much about,’ Ecthelion said. 

‘When he was young, my husband had little confidence,’ Parvon said. ‘He followed, rather than led. It was only after Maedon died that he began to change. For which I blame – or, rather, I credit – your husband, in fact.’

‘No, no, he just needed a bit of bolstering,’ Glorfindel said. ‘If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else. Maybe even you, Parvon.’

Parvon shook his head.

‘No. I had always admired him, but he was too wild for me to dare approach him, and then he and Maedon... they were not subtle. Still, thanks to you, I was able to befriend him and... all else followed, in time.’ He glanced back over his shoulder to where Triwathon had returned to his duties reuniting visitors with the newly-disembarked. ‘ And I hope you know I do not doubt my Triwathon; it is just... he has so friendly and kind a nature; he has always been so... Well. Forgive me, this is very unprofessional of me. Here is his majesty’s pavilion.’


	9. Going With The Flow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion and Glorfindel meet with the king...

Approaching the pavilion, they hesitated, for the sound of voices indicated his majesty already had company. Parvon shook his head as Thranduil’s iced, languid tones drifted out.

‘You thought we might be in need of proper raiment following our long exile in the lands to the east, you say? And pray tell, do I look to be in need of new clothes?’ 

The elegant voice dripped venom and Glorfindel grinned at Parvon.

‘Well, Thranduil doesn’t sound to have mellowed with age...’

‘Is that Glorfindel outside? Pray enter, Lord of Gondolin, and tell me whether in your opinion I need proper raiment... And do bring your husband, whose sartorial elegance impressed me last evening; if I trust the opinions of any denizens of Valinor, it is those held by the two of you...’

Thus invited, the two entered the pavilion where Thranduil, resplendent in black leather and dark grey shirt, was staring in dignified outrage at the merchant who had naively come to offer his services. The king was accompanied by his wife Nestoril and flanked by a tall, broad elf who looked as if he had been in every battle ever fought in Middle Earth, and the ellon with the beautiful shoes, today wearing long maroon boots with a dark red skirt.

Nestoril smiled as they entered.

‘And be careful what you say, Glorfindel, for, in fact, I found him these clothes...’

‘In that case, what is there to say but, can you find some for me?’ Fin said, adding with a wink. ‘Or for my husband, I should say...’  
‘Fin...!’ Ecthelion said faintly. ‘Your majesty, it is obvious that you lack nothing and good Master Mindomen here has made the journey from his emporium for nothing...’

‘But, my lord,’ Mindomen protested, turning to Ecthelion with hands outspread in supplication. ‘I seek only to help these new persons to feel more at home in proper garments; if it is truly the case that my services are not required, why is that elf wearing such... such outlandish garments?’

He pointed to Canadion who fluttered his outrageously long eyelashes under the scrutiny thus engendered.

‘In order to show off those gorgeous boots, of course!’ Ecthelion said. 

‘But, Lord Ecthelion... they are surely not intended for males... and so are not appropriate, not... not traditional...’

‘They were designed for humans, not elves, that much is probable,’ Ecthelion agreed. ‘But as to whether for male or female wear, I think you may be out of touch with modern fashions... Fin, did not Master Erestor say something about platform shoes...? Not only to us, I am sure Master Mindomen of them when he arrived and some of those present were scornful of Lord Arveldir’s footwear... And it is true that in the past travellers have been keen to resume traditional garb, but I must say, looking at the king and his court, that would be a great pity...’

‘Master Mindomen, we thank you for the kindness of your mistaken intentions and you may take your leave. Perhaps, Thiriston, you could help him on his way...? Ah, no, he seems to have found the way out all by himself. Canadion, you and Thiriston can make sure we’re not disturbed, thank you.’

Once the Silvans had departed, leaving only Nestoril as an interested observer, Thranduil gestured seats.

‘First, I should say, my friends’ insistence notwithstanding, I do not see myself as their king, but simply their guardian and friend in strange times and on these unfamiliar shores. So I thank you for the honour of your visit, but there is no need for ceremony; I have no kingdom here.’

‘But I disagree,’ Ecthelion said, settling on the seat with an elegance to rival even the Elvenking himself. ‘Oromë’s forests are full of Silvans all looking for leadership; your revered mother and Oromë himself have done what they can, but they wish to have their king back.’

‘Either of them, in fact,’ Glorfindel added with a grin.

‘Ah. In part that is why I have invited you here.’ Thranduil paused to pour rich, red liquid into goblets and pass them round. ‘It is not Dorwinion, I am afraid, but it is tolerable... Indeed, tomorrow is our Night of the Names...’

‘Yes. Parvon mentioned we were invited. And we’ll be happy to attend,’ Glorfindel said.

‘Indeed, I have heard so much of the Night from the other side, as it were, that I am quite eager to witness the events proper.’ Ecthelion added.

‘Good. But more than that, I intend to ride out today with my inner circle of supporters to camp outside Lord Námo’s halls. Our observances will focus on my father, our former king, and try by doing so to demonstrate our love for him and our need of his return. We hope it will help him release whatever is holding him in Námo’s care.’

Ecthelion nodded thoughtfully.

‘It may be of service to him, my lord. Your father was burdened with guilt and grief, and not even the words of forgiveness of those Silvans who spent their own time in the Halls seemed to free him.’

The king – or not-king – nodded.

‘Of course, it means I will therefore be leaving many of my newly-arrived Silvans at the mercy of any who might come along with gossip and rumour to pass off as fact... many of my friends do not even know whether there are any laws here which they need fear transgressing in innocence...’

‘Oh, it’s pretty simple,’ Glorfindel said. ‘No kinslaying, no gem-crafting except under strict supervision of Lord Aulë himself... individual Valar have their own rules in their private lands, of course. So Lord Ulmo takes a dim view of anyone gathering up the gems on the beach – they wouldn’t be jewelled strands without them, after all... and Lord Oromë doesn’t look kindly on poachers. Your Silvans who live in his woods can hunt where they will, except on his own private preserves, and he’s been known to banish transgressors... but he’s as strict with the Galadhrim about it as he is with Silvans.’

‘I see. But this fellow who was here just now... he seemed to imply one must revert to traditional garb...’

‘It is more that most travellers wish to do so, and he would prefer to be the one from whom such raiment was purchased,’ Ecthelion said. ‘It would be fair to say that in years past, some of the arrivals on these shores were dressed appallingly...’

‘Good. I was a little concerned, however, at his remarks... you may have noticed one of my warriors dressed in unusual style...’

‘Canadion?’ Glorfindel grinned. ‘Yes, how could we miss him? Thel’s in love with his footwear...’

‘So am I,’ Nestoril put in.

Thranduil looked at his wife with pretended impatience. She smiled mildly back at him.

‘Quite. I would not wish any of my Silvans to suffer indignity or insult from those who have been here longer, particularly if they do not understand the Silvan heart. I do not care how my friends present themselves as long as they are happy; if everyone wished to turn to dresses and kilts I would do all in my power to support them.’ The Sinda paused. ‘Not that I would myself. Erestor and Arveldir will take charge of the camp when I ride out... you will remember Arveldir, Glorfindel, from last night, if not from the old days?’

‘Of course. What’s more, Thranduil, it was Thel and I fished them from the water when their boat washed ashore... it wasn’t much more than a raft, really... it was good to see them again, especially Erestor. They were glad to land, I think a little boat on big seas was a bit alarming. Been here...what, a year or two...?’ Fin glanced at Ecthelion for confirmation, but his husband shook his head. ‘What, longer?’

‘Much longer,’ Ecthelion said. ‘In fact, it is a decade or so, I think.’

‘Really? It doesn’t seem it! But then, time does have a way of passing here...’

‘In fact, a decade fits with the news I had of them,’ Thranduil said. ‘That they took passage on a large vessel and stole one of the lifeboats. However, I digress. Glorfindel, I know you are familiar with our Silvan Night of the Names. I know you were at Dagorlad and so have personal memories of my father. I gather, also, that you have... have more recent knowledge of him, if one might allude so to your time in Lord Námo’s Halls...’

‘Both of us knew him there, my lord,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Thel for much longer than I did... if our stories can help...’

‘Perhaps not all the stories, Fin,’ Ecthelion murmured.

‘Well, maybe...’

‘Oh?’ Thranduil queried.

‘Well, sometimes your father was... impatient with my sense of humour,’ Fin said.

‘In fact, so was Lord Námo,’ Ecthelion said briskly. ‘Rather, I meant Lord Oropher’s long sorrow and guilt; how would it help to speak of his sadness?’

‘As long as my father is remembered, I do not really care how,’ Thranduil said. ‘During the Night of the Names all recollections are equally valid, and there are times when the living need to voice their thoughts of the dead, even if it is not entirely uplifting. If... if my father has been sorrowful, then tell my people; they will strive more from love of him, knowing he suffers still. Our thanks, then. The day meal will be serving now; do not let me keep you.’

‘Let me walk out with you,’ Nestoril said as they made their bows and exited the pavilion. ‘Now, where is Master Mindomen? Would you introduce us properly?’

‘Gladly, my lady, but to what end?’ Ecthelion asked.

‘Nestoril, I am Nestoril, or I am Ness. I also answer to Mrs King, but that’s less likely here... Oh, Mindomen. Well, yes. I’ve been accustomed to wearing comfortable, easy things, and so many modern clothes are much more practical... when we run out, perhaps your associate... bear with me a moment... Merlinith, Araspen, the very people I was looking for...’

‘If anyone should discover what is happening, could it be explained to me?’ Ecthelion asked, causing Parvon to smile in a rueful sort of way.

‘In the short while we have been reunited with our king and his wife, we have discovered it is best to simply – ah – go with the flow, as they say these days.’

‘Do they, do they really?’ Fin asked.

Nestoril returned, bearing with her two ellith.

‘Glorfindel, you must remember Merlinith and Araspen? Of course you do. And this is Ecthelion, Glorfindel’s husband... now, we’re looking for... what was his name?’

‘Mindomen.’ 

‘Yes. Is that he? Over there, near your Triwathon, Parvon?’

There was indeed a little gathering; Triwathon, still with his list in hand, but talking also to Maedon and now to Mindomen, too, who seemed to be discussing something earnestly with them.

‘...Of course, of course, you are new, you do not understand... but I tell you these new things are not proper, when the word gets out, you will have a visit from the Elders...’

‘Goodness, visitors, how nice!’ Nestoril said, interrupting. ‘I hope they will be here in time to share our celebrations! Now, Master Mindomen, you said you have an emporium for the provision of garments? Yes, excellent, well, Mistress Merlinith here has brought over some patterns and fabrics and I thought you might be able to work together to our mutual benefit...’

‘In what way, exactly?’ Mindomen asked, at which point Nestoril drew him, and the ellith, away, leaving a bewildered Triwathon shaking his head.

‘I... what could he have meant, when word gets out about these new things?’

‘He’s just seen Canadion’s boots,’ Glorfindel explained.

‘Ah. But there was also... he spotted some of the things we brought, Araspen’s sewing machine, the one that has the handle to turn, and nearly had a fit...’

Maedon grinned.

‘New things don’t go down well, generally... you remember the fuss when Master Baudh presented his pedal-operated weaving machine? That was only permitted because Mindomen argued for it...’

‘Baudh is here?’ Parvon interrupted. ‘Does his father know?’

‘I... have no idea,’ Maedon said. ‘My point being that anything brought from the round world is like to be met with suspicion...’

‘But surely it’s nobody’s business but our own what we do with our luggage?’ Triwathon said.

‘True, and yet...’ Ecthelion glanced at Fin under lowered lids. ‘Do you remember the fuss about our plumbing?’

‘Oh, that was ages ago...’

‘It still makes for a fine illustration; my dear friends, I had to remind the Elders of the harbour settlement that, in fact, water confined in pipes and powered by pumps was not considered “Against the Valar” or “Unelven” back in Gondolin, and if it were at all questionable then surely it would be down to me, as erstwhile Lord of the Fountain, to complain. It did lead to a choice misunderstanding, however... when the townsfolk realised the pleasures of washing cascades, Master Baudh found himself required to invert his designs, so that the water went up, like a fountain, before finally cascading down for washing...’

‘I think he enjoyed the challenge,’ Glorfindel said. ‘It seemed to amuse him, certainly.’

‘And so, it may be that good Master Mindomen seeks to warn you that any innovative items you may have brought could be cause for contention.’

‘I see,’ Triwathon said. ‘Except I don’t understand why there would be a problem; surely it’s our business, and not anyone else’s... ah, well. I will pass the word to hide the king’s bicycle... Well, I think that is everyone for the moment... Maedon, my friend, will you share the daymeal with us?’

‘My thanks, but my wife will be waiting. With a scold if I’m late, to be honest; I only slipped out to get strawberries for our own meal and heard about the ship and...’ He ended with a shrug. ‘Another time perhaps. I will try to be here for the Night of the Names, though. It’s good to see you again, and to know you found yourself a sweetheart. Brave choice, well done!’

‘Maedon, Parvon is more than a sweetheart, we are married, you know...’

But Maedon had lifted a hand in farewell and was already loping off back towards the harbour while Triwathon stared after him.

‘What did he mean? Does he not see how much Parvon is to me? What could he possibly be thinking...?’

Glorfindel grinned and gave him a gentle nudge.

‘Best just to go with the flow, don’t you think?’

Parvon let out a short laugh.

‘Yes, perhaps so! Come, love, it doesn’t matter what Maedon thinks we are to each other, as long as we know how things are; he’s married anyway, why would he care, beyond being glad for you?’ He turned to Glorfindel and Ecthelion. ‘Shall we find seats? The daymeal is now prepared.’

Heading back to where food was now spread and people gathering, they were hailed by Erestor, husband of Arveldir and former advisor to Lord Elrond in the long-ago.

‘Will you all join us? Triwathon, Parvon, we wished to catch you before you depart, to discuss one or two matters and we had little chance to talk last evening, Glorfindel, Ecthelion...’

‘Indeed, and our thanks,’ Ecthelion said, allowing himself and Fin to be steered to where the auburn haired Silvan was waiting. ‘It strikes me that while your king has suggested we assist with advising the new arrivals, you both have been here for long enough to fulfil that role yourselves, and we have no wish to intrude...’

‘Ah, but I have been corrupted by my marriage to a wild Silvan and so the Noldor look on me with distant pity and murmur that Lord Elrond did not invite me to his valley to continue my former service...’

‘Servitude,’ Arveldir interposed. ‘In fact, we did not wait for any word from Elrond but instead accepted Lord Oromë’s invitation to join the Silvan enclave in his woods. So we are hardly respected amongst the harbour townsfolk...’

‘And amongst our friends we have heard constantly of how Glorfindel and Ecthelion would meet the ships, or be there at the welcome celebrations, and that your ease with Silvans, Glorfindel, helped them feel more comfortable than otherwise they would have done.’

‘Well, that’s the thing; we always go to the welcome party. Always. Although I must confess I was usually hoping for news of my old friend Triwathon...’

‘Your patience has been rewarded, then! In any event, there are so many friends arrived that we are constantly required in several places at once... your aid will be more than welcome, in fact.’

‘Then we will be happy to help,’ Ecthelion said. ‘When will you want us?’

‘For the Yule Feast tomorrow, at this time, and then as darkness falls... if you will.’

‘But if you wish to spend time in the camp before then, you would be more than welcome.’

‘We’d thought to stay and watch the king ride out, if we may,’ Ecthelion said. ‘It seems fitting, somehow.’

It meant waving Triwathon off, also. When the moment came, Glorfindel gave no impression of minding that the reunion so recently celebrated should be thus interrupted, a thing Ecthelion noted with pride as the party, led by the king on a borrowed elk, and accompanied by his closest of friends, set off on their ride to the Halls of Mandos.

‘Well, that’s that for the moment,’ Glorfindel said, twining his fingers with Ecthelion’s. ‘Shall we go home now, bit of peace and quiet and maybe go for a swim later?’

‘It sounds wonderful.’ Ecthelion agreed. ‘It must be all of, oh, three hours since we were alone together...’

‘Really? It feels longer...’

‘Come, then. Let’s go home, and you can show me...’

*

On the way to the path amongst the dunes, they witnessed a curious sight; Canadion, standing with laughing patience while an ellon who bore more than a passing resemblance to him did something to his boots.

‘..so it goes all the way up... and then it stays... and then down again... what did you say...?’

‘A zip, Baudh, or sometimes it is called a zipper. And, no, I do not know how it knows to stay fastened at the top, but it does...’

‘And down... and...’

‘Yes, yes, brother mine, it goes down and up and it tickles... really, I am delighted to bring you such entertainment, but I must go...’

‘Could I borrow this? I want to see how it works...’

‘No! It is part of my boots, and I need it! Go and ask someone else... try Ada...’

‘Our adar has boots like this?’

‘No, silly Baudh! But the fastenings are used on many things... I meant, he will know. He may even be able to find you one... Mistress Merlinith I think brought some for use in making things...’

‘Used on other things?’ Baudh asked. ‘Such as?’

‘Oh... bags... dresses... my skirt even has a small one, no, Baudh, don’t touch my skirt zip... jeans, too...’

‘Jeans?’

‘These trouser-things, such as Master Parvon and Commander Triwathon are in... instead of lacings... now, let go of my boots, I am supposed to be working...’

Glorfindel turned to Ecthelion and smiled. 

‘Imagine,’ he said. ‘A fastening that rides up and down like that. Instead of lacings...’

‘We really don’t have time for such imaginings now, my golden one. Later, perhaps.’

‘When we get home?’

‘Yes, indeed.’

‘Oh, good... what do you have in mind?’

Ecthelion smiled and pulled Glorfindel against him for a moment.

‘I do not quite know yet; perhaps we should just... what was the phrase again? Ah, yes... go with the flow...’


	10. Down... and Up...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Glorfindel considers the matter of zips...

Ecthelion and Glorfindel took to the shoreline for the walk home. The tide was on its way out, leaving a gem-studded ribbon of damp sand gleaming like old gold between the sliding waves and the dry and sifting beach above the tideline. 

‘Did you think, Thel, perhaps Triwathon was very glad to see Maedon...?’ Glorfindel began after a few moments. ‘I mean, Triwathon always said they had been friends, good friends, but not much more than friends who happened to be lovers, but then, seeing them meet...’

‘I could not say; I really do not know Triwathon as you do... no, don’t hang your head, beloved flower of gold, I meant nothing by that except that I only met him yesterday...! Parvon was distressed, I think.’

‘Yes, more than with me, I thought. Perhaps because he thought, too, they’d been less to each other than it seems...’

‘Or perhaps it’s just Triwathon’s friendly nature,’ Ecthelion said, hoping that by echoing Parvon’s words his spouse would smile and turn the subject. But Fin didn’t seem to notice.

‘Well, he is friendly. But that was... more than just... I thought... And in case you’re wondering, no, I’m not jealous, it was just... odd. He brushed his hair back as if he was expecting something...’

‘Triwathon has been living in a much changed world,’ Ecthelion offered, not knowing quite why Glorfindel was so bothered, nor why he wanted to explain Triwathon to him. ‘Perhaps that is how people express themselves these days.’

‘I suppose. Well, it’s up to Parvon to mind, or not to mind, isn’t it? Not me, none of my business. And at least Parvon will have Triwathon to himself for a bit, or at least out of the way of all these old friends who’ve been popping up...’

‘Is that really the right way to put it? “Popping up”? Really, Fin, you do have a way with words...’

Fin laughed at last, and Thel smiled and they walked on.

The villa came in sight as they rounded the curve of the shore, bright white and strong blue against the azure sky and a soft breeze stirred their hair, mingling the golden tresses and the ebony locks together for a moment.

Glorfindel stopped and pulled at Ecthelion’s hand.

‘Yes, my golden love?’

Fin snuggled into Ecthelion’s chest in a loving, affectionate hug for a moment before looking up into his beautiful face.

‘Oh, Thel, I do love it when you say “yes”...’

Ecthelion burst out laughing and brushed Fin’s hair back from his face to drop a swift, sweet kiss on his forehead.

‘It’s usually a lot more fun than saying “no” might be!’

‘You’re so very good to me,’ Fin said in more sober tones. 

‘I love you. How could I help but be as good to you as I could?’

‘Oh, Thel...’ Glorfindel burrowed in, his arms going under Thel’s tunic to slide against the thin silk of his shirt. ‘Shall we go for a swim? Would you like that?’

‘I think I would like to watch you,’ Ecthelion said. ‘But let’s wait until we get nearer home. Unless you happen to have a towel hidden about your person?’

‘Towels are for persons with something to hide,’ Glorfindel said with a toss of his golden tresses. ‘I am not ashamed to display the frame Eru gave me!’

‘I had noticed. More than once, in fact.’

*

Ecthelion sat on the dry sand with his back to the villa and watched as Glorfindel disported himself in the water. Next to him on the beach, two sets of footwear were covered by an untidy heap of Fin’s garments, while Ecthelion himself had stripped to the waist and folded his own tunic and shirt to one side; it was not that his golden flower was untidy so much as he had been eager to get into the tide, claiming the waves were calling him to come play with them.

Glorfindel could be such an elfling, sometimes.

Ecthelion smiled, though, at the thought. Fin was complicated, frequently haunted by the ghosts of his past – and he had a lot of past by which to be haunted – as well as insecure and occasionally accidentally insensitive.

But he was also golden, and loving, loyal and generally thoughtful. When a mood like this came on him and he ran, uninhibited and free, into the waves for simple joy, Ecthelion felt the heart swell in his breast from simple joy that Fin could still find delight in such simple child-like pleasures.

Glorfindel threw himself at the waves, cruising like a dolphin, rolling and laughing as the sea supported him, swamped him, a wave crashing over his head so that when he rose, shaking his head and sending the brine flying, he was giggling as he flailed and waved at Ecthelion.

Ai! That amount of sea water would take hours of washing out...

Well, given how Fin tended to see such an exercise as an excuse for more playfulness...

‘Thel! Come on in, Thel, it’s wonderful today!’

Sea spray flew from Fin in little diamond drops, sparkling, and before he knew what he was doing, Thel had risen and was running across the beach, into the surf, to launch himself at his husband in a desperate urgency to hold him, to kiss him, to claim him, there and then, at the edge of the beach in the fringes of the sea foam.

It was only when Thel waded into the waves that he registered how slightly frantic some of Fin’s play had seemed, as if he was having to force himself to appear joyful and happy... once more the golden Glorfindel was pretending to be fine while something was on his mind, darkening the light of his fëa... nor did it take a particular degree of empathy to realise the problem was, once more, Triwathon.

But Ecthelion ignored that, for the moment, instead taking Fin’s playfulness at face value and joining him in the surf with a laugh and a kiss, throwing himself at his husband in much the same way Glorfindel did him, except that Thel hooked a foot round Fin’s leg so that he was pulled off balance and splashed down into the shallow waters, landing with Thel on top of him and lifting his head clear of the sea to kiss, and kiss, and taste the sweet salt of the sea on his lips.

Glorfindel’s mouth was cool from the water and warm from the heat of his blood, and his body pressing hard and aroused against Thel’s sodden leggings was a patch of warmth in the cold of the ocean. He found himself held, cuddled, rolled until Fin was on top, his hands linked beneath Ecthelion’s neck to perform the same service of keeping his head clear of the sea foam.

‘Oh, Glorfindel, it will take us all afternoon to be free of the sand and the salt!’ he exclaimed in mock protest.

‘Good,’ Glorfindel said, and fell on Ecthelion’s throat with a lapping, swirling tongue that tickled even as it delighted. ‘Love you, my Thel, I...’

His muffled voice broke off and his shoulders heaved. Swiftly Ecthelion sat up in the tide, pulling Fin up likewise. He took his hands and looked into the so-blue eyes which now were wetter than simply sea splash should have made them.

‘Glorfindel, my sunlight, my flower of gold, I love you. My fëa-mate, my forever-beloved, my soul. You are so beautiful, so loving, such a brave heart and strong arm, and so tender and gentle. You laugh freely and love delightfully and I will never, ever understand how anyone who once looked at you in affection could ever move on.’

‘Oh, Thel, I...’

‘You are the most wonderful ellon I have ever known, and every day when I come out of reverie I thank all the Valar and Eru Ilúvatar that I have been blessed with your love. And I find I am angry at Triwathon, not that he loved you, not that he provided comfort for you when I could not, but that he was so... so foolish, so unkind as to leave you, to let you leave... you deserved better treatment, beloved, and although I am profoundly grateful you returned to me, and I have been ever since the moment I found you there, in Námo’s Halls, and still now cannot quite believe my good fortune that you came back to me, and let me love you and care for you still, I am furious that he did that to you... how could anyone, anyone not want to love you forever?’

‘I think... he knew I was coming back to you, Thel. That I loved you more. Always.’

Glorfindel’s voice was slow and soft, as if he wanted the words to be right. His mouth moved twice before he managed to get it to smile as all around them the waves crashed and roared the slow sea-song, the booming of the surf a sombre counterpoint to the wheeling cry of gulls overhead.

‘I talked about you all the time. I missed you. I wanted you. I never pretended he was you, that would have been wrong to you both, but after, sometimes, I’d remember the way you would hold me, how you kissed with your whole self, your scent, your hair... and I had to remind myself this wouldn’t be forever, one day Middle Earth would be safe, Elrond’s line would be safe, or dead, or sailed and I wouldn’t have to worry about duty any more, and this was only... only solace. But I did love him, and he me, it just wasn’t... he wasn’t you. I never wanted him to be you, I wanted you, and to be yours. Your Glorfindel, your Fin.’

Ecthelion smiled encouragement and squeezed Glorfindel’s fingers gently. It was rare for Fin to find the words to express his emotions, and Thel was loath to interrupt. But now Fin was looking at him with anxious eyes, like a puppy that didn’t know if it had done wrong and feared punishment; it seemed he had done with speech, had used up all his words.

‘You are my Fin, my beloved, always. You always were, and you shall be so forever, my flower. Thank you. No doubt it was not always fun for Triwathon to hear you speak of me, but I am grateful that you did, that you carried me in your heart for so long in so many ways. And, Glorfindel, golden one... all I ever wanted to be was your Ecthelion.’  
Glorfindel gave a stifled little sob and fell on Ecthelion’s neck, weeping into his wet and salted hair while Thel held him close, kissing at his tangled blond tresses and holding tight while the storm passed.

Overhead the sky was blue, bluer, bluest, and the sun warmed them while Glorfindel’s tempest of emotion calmed.

The touch of Glorfindel’s hands, no longer clutching but stroking and caressing made Thel aware of the exact moment Fin found his light again; tears still trailed down his face but his eyes were smiling once more. Thel smiled back and linked his hands around his husband’s neck.

‘Let’s go in,’ he said. ‘You’re chilled from the ocean; our bathing pool will be warm, and private, and we don’t want to shock the seagulls, do we?’

Glorfindel laughed, and in a surging, splashing sweep, Ecthelion rose from the waters and scooped him into his arms, heading back up the beach while Fin cuddled in against him, cool and wet and delightfully naked...

...the housekeeping would be finished in the main part of the house, Thel knew, the staff gathered in the kitchens now for a gossip and a rest, so there was no danger of startling them. Even so, he was cautious in the route he took, keeping his beautiful husband shielded from potential eyes and bearing him into the house through the window-doors that led into their private rooms. Off to the side was the doorway to the bathing room, and Ecthelion carried Fin through and descended the steps into the warm waters, still holding his husband in his arms.

‘Ai, that’s nice, Thel,’ Fin sighed as his husband gently set him floating in the soft warmth. ‘I could have walked, you know...’

‘But where would be the fun in that, beloved?’ Ecthelion asked, unbinding Fin’s braids and reaching for the soap. He washed Glorfindel’s hair and rinsed it free of salt and sand, and stood for Fin to do the same for him. Helpfully, Fin also washed his chest, and his back, and slipped soapy fingers into the waistband of Thel’s leggings in a sensuous tease. 

‘You’ve still got your leggings on. I love how they fit you when wet. Mmm... How did that zip thing go again...?’ Glorfindel grinned and drifted his fingers round to Thel’s groin. ‘Down... and up... Up... and down...?’

‘Something like that,’ Thel gasped and jumped, relieved that his beloved husband’s mood had settled into playfulness once more. It was no hardship to submit to the teasing trace of fingers up and down his suddenly-desperate erection, the touch made more delicate by the intervening fabric. ‘Ai, Fin...’

‘Much more fun than lacings,’ Glorfindel said, tugging at the ties and pushing the sodden fabric down. Thel supported himself against the side of the pool, allowing access for Fin to pull the garment off completely, freeing Ecthelion to the pull of the water. A little cloud of sand and silt blossomed out around them, was swirled away by the currents. ‘Ai! There is more sand in the pool with us than on the beach! And you wonder why I swim naked?’

‘I do not wonder at all, my love,’ Ecthelion said as Fin reached for him. ‘I merely delight at the sight of you... and the touch, oh, Fin, that is...’

Glorfindel’s mouth on his silenced him, and for a time all was the softness of Fin’s lips, the slip and tease of his tongue, the work of his hands. He tangled his legs with Thel’s, bringing their bodies close and trapping his erection against Thel’s thigh. Only for a moment; his lover’s long, strong fingers reached for him, pulling him free to tug and squeeze and stroke, even as Fin was stroking him.

The kiss ended when Ecthelion pulled away to shudder with arousal.

‘Here?’ he asked, pleaded. ‘Hands, in the pool? Or bed?’

‘Both,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Here, first. Now, first...’ and he quickened the rhythm of his hand so that Thel moaned and bit at his neck, and speeded the slide of his own fingers. Glorfindel gasped and gulped under Ecthelion’s teeth and tongue and his hips convulsed as his orgasm found him. His wail and the unconscious spasm of his hand tipped Thel over the edge into completion, and they shuddered against each other in the heat of the pool, steadying slowly and releasing each other with tender care.

Fin laughed and shivered and kissed his husband.

‘If that is what happens when I only pretend you have a zip,’ he began, ‘I cannot wait for the real thing!’


	11. Storage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion and Glorfindel assist the newly arrived Silvans...

The morning brought with it a cold breeze and a rolling sea-fret hiding the view from the windows. Ecthelion was more than usually grateful for the warmth of Glorfindel’s body against his own as he closed and opened his eyes and sat up to the hidden seascape and fog-drift of mist. As he sat up, his husband whimpered in reverie and stirred, rolling over to throw an arm across Ecthelion’s thighs over the covers and nestle his head on Thel’s lap, his tangled golden tresses begging to be stroked and caressed.

Who could resist such silken gold? His fingers strayed into the glorious confusion of silken strands...

‘...when you do that, Thel, it’s like I’m a little cat and you’re my person... make me purr, right down to my fëa...’

Ecthelion laughed as Fin lifted his sleepy head to smile and blink.

‘Would you like me to find you a nice mouse for your breakfast, kitty?’ he said. ‘Or some cream in a bowl...?’

Glorfindel made a soft meowing noise and bumped his head against Thel’s hand.

‘Ai, warhorse, hound, kitten... is there no end to your animal impressions? Mind, I am not making love to a kitten, all those little sharp teeth and claws... Come, love, time we were up...’

‘And then breakfast, perhaps? Something more substantial than mice dipped in milk, I think... I was hoping for bread and butter, cheese and fruit, but not before I’ve had my husband...’

‘I think that can be arranged... and what a wonderful way to work up an appetite...’

Thel smiled and took Glorfindel in his arms to enjoy early-morning kisses and languorous lovemaking.

It was a perfect start to what would prove to be an interesting morning. After they had, indeed, worked up an appetite, Thel decided it was still too misty a morning to break their fast outside in the gardens, as was their usual routine. While it made him sigh a little, for he was a creature of habit, and liked breakfast in the garden with Glorfindel, it really was not too much of a departure from the norm, and Fin, being far more a spur-of-the-moment person, happily suggested dressing robes and breakfast in the dining room where they could, at least, look out towards the coast and hope for the clearing of the sea fogs.

‘Chasing ships, still, my sunbeam?’ Thel asked, going along with this alternative plan happily enough.

‘Ai, we haven’t recovered from the last ship, yet, have we? No, I was thinking... if Lord Ulmo is doing this because he’s happening to be passing and doesn’t want to alarm the harbour folk, we might see his shape through the mists. We could give him a wave.’

‘He is Lord of All the Waters! Does he not have enough waves already?’

‘Of the hand, I meant!’ Fin grinned. ‘Here... I love you in this colour. It shows up the shine on your hair.’

He threw indigo sleeping shorts and dressing robe across at his spouse, himself covering up in sky blue and primrose silk to spare the housekeeper’s blushes.

‘Hmm. I think I do not mind the sea-fret quite so much,’ Ecthelion said as they settled at the table. ‘When I have the luxury of looking at a summer’s day seated opposite me.’

Glorfindel grinned.

‘Thank you, my Ecthelion. You’re like the patch of perfect shade to retreat to, when the heat gets too much, all soft purple and blue, calm and cooling, but not, at the same time. If you see what I mean.’

Ecthelion nodded. He had no idea, of course, what Glorfindel had been trying to say, but he heard the sentiment behind the attempt – that he was Fin’s sanctuary, and it made him smile.

*

They had been at the table only a few moments when the housekeeper knocked and, after a moment (she had grown used to counting to ten, knowing the wisdom of giving her charges ample time to wrap clothes around themselves), she entered with a formal air that suggested someone waiting just behind her in the hall.

‘Pardon the interruption, my lords, but there are two Silvan ...ladies here to see you.’

‘How delightful, company at breakfast! More conquests, Fin dearest?’

‘What can I say, Thel, I have this way with me... but I suppose it depends on the ladies... who is it, Mistress Lalbes?’

‘Mistress Araspen and Merlinith, my lord.’

‘Oh, how lovely! Old friends, indeed! Please bring them in,’ Fin said with a grin. ‘Not conquests, I’m not their type, Thel...’

‘Indeed? Oh, and, Lalbes, please bring more settings; that is, if the ladies will join us?’ Thel lifted his voice at the end with a welcoming smile at the ellith now ushered in.

‘We are grateful my lord, but...’ Mistress Merlinith began, but her friend nudged her. ‘Ah... that is, yes, it would be most welcome...’

‘Bring everything; no, bring more of everything, please, Lal; I’m famished this morning, I seem to have woken up with an appetite,’ Fin said, ghosting a wink at his husband. ‘Can’t think why. Come and sit down, then, Silvan Ladies. Nice to see you both again, Merlinith; have you word of your prince yet? Thel, Merlinith is Legolas’ honour-sister...’

‘Yes, we hear all will be well; my Govon is still there, at the healers’ with his husband, of course, but a message came to say the prince just needs a good sleep.’

‘And Govon’s hand? That was quite a punch he threw...’

‘Lord Glorfindel, if he hadn’t thumped Elrond, I would have smacked him myself!’ Merlinith said. ‘But no, he’s fine. And this is... most kind. Although I ought to say, we are here to ask....’

She trailed off; the arrival of Lalbes and an ellon bearing dishes and plates interrupted her train of thought. Soon two extra settings were laid, along with copious amounts of food. Lalbes dropped a stiff curtsey.

‘Just as you asked for, Lord Glorfindel, “ everything” and “more of everything”. I hope all is to your satisfaction.’

‘Perfect, thank you, Lalbes. You’re far too good for us.’

Lalbes sniffed as if she was in full agreement, and swept from the room, the ellon following.

‘She’s a sweetheart, really, but I have a feeling the scrambled eggs were for her and Bruiven – the fellow with her. He’s also her husband...’ Glorfindel lowered his voice. ‘Poor fellow...!’

‘Now, Fin, we have an arrangement – we do not gossip about the staff and they do not talk about us. At least, not outside the house. Welcome, ladies... we were introduced...?’

‘We were, indeed, Lord Ecthelion,’ Merlinith said, helping herself to the contents of the dishes. ‘But then Nestoril introduced us to a harbour elf as well and we lost sight of you...’

‘It is very interesting, though, what the harbour elf was saying about new things...’ Araspen paused to sip from her goblet of elderflower cordial. ‘It’s seems that the local elders consider everything brought from the round world to be “Against the Valar” or “unelven”...unless it is something that will produce nice clothes, quickly, or make food have more savour, or be something one or other of them thinks they might like... and it has been reported, that sometimes items are confiscated for later examination...’

‘And the said items mysteriously are lost, only to be spotted in one or other of the homes of the elders,’ Merlinith added. ‘Now, I may just be a simple Silvan who has been living in the corrupt round world, but it seems to me that such behaviour in itself is rather unelven...’

‘Sadly, I think there is much in these tales,’ Ecthelion said. ‘We try not to involve ourselves in the disputes about what is proper and what is not... largely because we are considered terribly, terribly improper in our behaviour, even though in our day, in our city, under our king, we were accepted, and feted, and honoured. But you need not worry about such matters; you have your own king, who will protect you, and whose word will override the simple pronouncements of the harbour elders.’

‘That’s all very well for you to say, my lord, and if our king were here, I would not be so worried,’ Merlinith said briskly. ‘But he is not, he is away to try to bring his father our first king back to us, and so we are less protected today... and while we are well able to protect ourselves, it would be a shame to have to spoil our celebrations in a fight...’

‘May the Valar save us from a kinslaying!’ Ecthelion said. ‘How alarming! But surely, you have not been threatened? I am sure Lord Arveldir would have sent word...’

‘In fact, my lord, he sent us,’ Araspen said in her soft voice. ‘And we have allowed ourselves to be distracted by your generous hospitality when really we should already have asked... He said you might, perhaps, have somewhere we could hide our more ...unelven... items until such time as our king is returned...?’

‘In fact, we do have a spare room or two... I do not know how much space will be needed, but I do hope that pretty ellon’s shoe collection is amongst the items...’

Merlinith’s mouth twitched.

‘In fact, we wish to house the king’s bicycle as a priority... and there are modern electronic gadgets which Masters Merenor and Hanben think they can keep working, with some cleverness, but...’

‘Electronic...?’

‘Oh, of course, it is very modern... enough to seem almost magical, at times, even though I know the technology behind them... but they do not take up much space... I think Canadion would fight to the death to keep his stilettoes, and probably fight in them, too...’

‘Ai, what an image...!’ Thel said weakly. ‘I would be delighted to help you – it is my opinion that the elders do not always have the best interests of the entire population in mind – only those of the ones nearest, and loudest, to them...’

‘Pesky Noldor, ordering everyone about, as usual...’ Glorfindel said, grinning.

‘Indeed, some Noldor are given to organisational skills,’ Ecthelion said with a private smile to his spouse, ‘and some are more fitted to play the flute, or sit watching for ships...’ He pushed back his chair and smiled more generally at his guests. ‘Now, ladies, I will leave you with Glorfindel, if you will, while I dress; we normally would break our fast in the gardens, but the sea-fret... Fin, tell them the stories of the mists, while I get ready, will you? And have Lalbes bring more spiced tea...’

Although Ecthelion did not dally, by the time he returned to the dining room matters had progressed far beyond breakfast; he entered in time to hear an amused scold from Merlinith, Glorfindel’s deep laugh ringing out...

‘Sweet Eru, Fin, darling where did you get those from?’ he exclaimed from the doorway, filling up his eyes with the sight that met him; his husband had somehow acquired a set of the snug leggings – jeans, that was the word – in a deep blue and was... was wiggling his way into them... that his back was turned to the ladies was some comfort, he supposed... 

‘A present from our Silvan friends,’ Fin said, grinning. ‘And, yes, Thel, the zip really does go up... what do you think?’

‘I think... I need to sit down... as do you, if you can...’

‘Just about. Thank you, Merlinith, Araspen! These are... will be... much appreciated...’

‘You’re very welcome, my lord. And, Lord Ecthelion, we took the liberty of bringing a couple of pairs for you, also.’

‘By way of thanks,’ Araspen added, presenting a neatly folded bundle of black, thick fabric to Ecthelion. ‘I hope they fit; we thought you slenderer than Glorfindel, but his, in a larger size, are still a little snug...’

‘I had noticed...’

‘No, they’re perfect!’ Glorfindel insisted. ‘Thel, are you going to try yours?’

‘I would love to, dearest sunlight, but if I did, we would perhaps spend time in admiring these fine garments which might be better spent helping our kind friends... if you’ve done eating, love, do go and find a shirt, would you? Ladies, come with me, I would show you the room I hope will serve your purpose... did you really bring these... jeans... all the way across the seas for us?’

‘Not specifically for you and Glorfindel, my lord,’ Merlinith said, preparing to follow Thel from the room. ‘But we had a little spare money, and there was room on the ship, and these are very popular amongst us Silvans; it seemed a good idea to bring a few extra pairs in the commonest sizes. Master Erestor said he thought your husband would like a pair... oh, my lord, if this is the room, I am sure it will do very well.’

‘One of several guest rooms... the bed could be moved out, but the trunks will be emptied and if you need them for your unelven things, they would be safe, and hidden.’

‘The bicycle, though,’ Araspen said. ‘I am sure it will be fine, but it is... large.’

‘Narrow, but long,’ Merlinith confirmed. ‘However, I do not think it will matter; who would dare question the contents of your villa, my lord?’

‘There is the goatshed, if all else fails,’ Ecthelion offered. ‘Fin’s goats brook no interference and so if you needed to hide anything utterly...’

‘What’s this about my goats?’ Fin arrived in the doorway. He’d found a blue shirt that went well with the new leg-coverings and exposed his tanned throat. ‘They probably didn’t mean it...’

‘Oh, I accuse them of nothing at present,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Mistress Araspen, will you need assistance bringing things across?’

‘We were sent to ask only,’ Araspen said. ‘The organising is to be Erestor and Arveldir’s task.’

‘Well, I reckon the fog will burn off in about an hour,’ Glorfindel said, rubbing his hands together briskly. ‘But if we hasten, it will provide excellent cover. Thel, shall we walk back and see what can be done?’

Ecthelion waved a lazy hand.

‘You go, my sunlight; I will stay here to receive and supervise the stowing away.’

‘Most kind, my lord,’ Merlinith said. ‘An hour! We had better hurry, then.’ 

*

Once Fin and the ladies had left, Ecthelion gave instructions to the long-suffering Lalbes and her husband to clear the contents of the trunks in the guest room, and to bring in further chests if such were available.

‘For we are helping some of Fin’s friends with something. Good. Thank you.’

Thus certain the servants were busy, he retired to his room to try on the new jeans and examine his reflection in private... yes, the effect was very different from regular leggings, and if he looked, perhaps, less startling than Fin, well, he was still sure his spouse would approve.

In this he did himself an injustice, of course, and when Glorfindel returned he almost dropped the basket he was carrying in shock.

‘Sweet Eru, Thel, that’s... do I look like that?’

‘No, beloved sunbeam, you look much more rounded, I believe... but there will be time enough to admire each other later, how did you get on?’

‘Oh, pretty well; Merlinith’s organising some more of her Silvan friends, Canadion’s just down the path, he’s bringing the Royal Bicycle... his husband’s with him, bringing his shoes...’

The bicycle proved to be an impressive combination of wheels and metal and its principle was gruffly explained by Thiriston, who had arrived with Canadion and pulling two large wheeled cases behind him.

‘Sit astride the thing, feet on the pedals, push, you go forward. Or you fall over. Never mastered it myself, prefer motorbikes...’

‘Motor...?’

Thiriston grinned and shook his head.

‘Sorry, never thought. We’ve been a long time away from the simple life, I think. Now, where’s it to go, then?’

Once the contraption was properly hidden in the washroom adjoining the chamber set aside, Ecthelion found more Silvans had arrived. 

They waited outside the villa amongst their bags and boxes and cases, looking lost and bewildered in the thin mist through which a pale sun was already trying to burn its way through; there could be a hot day ahead.

‘Welcome,’ he said, spreading his hands and smiling; this was where Fin would have been useful, he always seemed better at putting folk at their ease... ‘My husband seems to have disappeared, so it is left to me... come in, do, I will show you the room where you may put your modern delights... I am glad you are come, life around here has become rather quiet of late, the harbour town could do with stirring up a little... here we are. When you have done, if you are not in a hurry, you may sit in the garden and I will have them bring drinks.’

He left them to it, passed word to Lalbes who looked as if she couldn’t decide whether to resign her position or hit him with the ladle she happened to have in her hand, so he exited the kitchens and looked in on the storage chamber once more.

The trunks were already full, and the room had begun filling from the corners outwards, strangely bright cases with wheels attached and handles that folded in and out and constructed of materials Ecthelion had never seen before, and all the while the elves were bowing and calling him ‘Lord’ and thanking him.

‘No, you are very welcome, it is no trouble... garden, refreshments, that way... has anyone seen my husband? One cannot miss him, plenty of outrageously blond hair, blue shirt today, new jeans, a most disreputable wiggle...’

‘My lord, he went back to help at the camp once more,’ someone told him.

‘Ah, I see. My thanks. And please, do call me Ecthelion. If nothing else, it will annoy the harbour elders whom I insist call me by my title.’

By the time Glorfindel arrived at the head of a second column of Silvans, the sun was brighter, stronger and the day was fine and warm.

‘A bit different from the first Yule I shared with Silvans,’ Glorfindel said, casting himself onto the grass at the back of the house amongst the wood-elves. He lifted his goblet towards Ecthelion. ‘Escort duty, something I was doing to help. It was cold, raining, the sort of rain that seeps in everywhere... delighted to see the gates, we were, raised a chorus of ‘Heroes Coming Home’ so the guard would know we were coming. Well, mostly to take our mind off the rain. Ness was with me, she’d escorted the princes to their ship and had planned to sail with them... good thing she didn’t, if you ask me.’

‘Indeed; who knows how we would have fared without her?’ Canadion said, setting down his empty goblet. ‘We are grateful, Ecthelion, Glorfindel, for your help and your hospitality. But we should return to the camp. You are coming to the Yule Feast, I understand?’

‘Indeed,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Is there a dress code?’

‘Oh, no, just as you are is fine,’ Canadion told him. ‘It is not like at home, where we had formal uniforms.’

‘Erestor asked if we could go sooner, rather than later,’ Glorfindel added, stretching like a golden feline in the sunlight.

‘And you tell me this now...?’

Fin grinned.

‘Just wanted a moment with my drink in the sunshine, first. Besides, I thought we’d better make sure everything had been brought and put away. But if you’re ready, we could all walk over together...?’


	12. Yule Day Feast, and Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion and Glorfindel are exposed to new forms of music-making and Glorfindel finds some wine...

Something about Ecthelion’s ready acceptance, or perhaps Glorfindel’s friendly, relaxed conversation seemed to release something in the Silvans, and the walk to the makeshift camp was full of chatter, often interrupted, laughter and questions, mostly about daily life in Valinor.

‘And... forgive me, what do you do all day...?’ Merlinith asked, her voice sounding perplexed. ‘That is, it is the Undying Lands, there are no humans to blend in amongst, how do you fill your time?’

Glorfindel laughed as Ecthelion gestured towards him with a superior smile.

‘I am married to the most handsome, loving, charming, lithe and energetic ellon in all of Eru’s wondrous creation; how do you think I fill my time...?’

At Merlinith’s side, Araspen giggled, and Fin shook his head.

‘Probably better not tell her too much, eh, Thel?’

‘It sounds perfect, if you like that sort of thing,’ Merlinith said. ‘But I meant more... perhaps it is not relevant, we have had to make our way in the round world, work and such...’

‘Ah, indeed... we’ve a small flock of sheep somewhere about.’ Ecthelion waved a hand vaguely towards the hills beyond the villa. ‘The fleece is good quality, it is popular with the spinners and weavers and the cloth-makers in the town... there is always plenty to fill the time, if one needs something with which to pass the days. And of course, one must get out of the way of the servants for a few hours a day... Fin watches for ships, I sit on the beach and watch Fin... I paint, or I play and compose music...’ ‘I watch for more ships. Swim a bit,’ Fin added. ‘And I’ve got my goats.’ ‘Yes... and We have fallen into our habits together with little interruption or distraction for... millennia, I suppose.’ 

‘But then, there are no Men around, changing things all the time,’ Glorfindel said. ‘It’s been lovely, really. A very nice change from quests and battles and dragons and suchlike.’

Merlinith sighed.

‘Well, our last dragon was something like a thousand years ago but, sadly, Men keep finding things to fight over... you’d think with so few years to live, they’d be more careful what they do with their time...’

‘Or perhaps they simply do not have long enough to spend talking things through?’ Ecthelion suggested. ‘I did not know many of them, not really.’

‘I was going to say, you’re not missing much,’ Merlinith said. ‘But then, sometimes they surprise you.’

‘It’s true,’ Araspen said. ‘Several humans helped our king to reconnect with us, and bring us away.’

‘Certainly, I knew both bad and good amongst them,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Much the same as elves, really. Only they die sooner, and have not such nice hair.’

*

They arrived at the camp to thanks from Erestor and Arveldir and greetings from the assembled Silvans.

‘You are in good time, Glorfindel,’ Erestor said, gesturing him and Thel away towards a smaller version of the king’s pavilion. ‘And your assistance this morning has brought new heart to our charges; with the king gone, there has been some uncertainty.’

‘Oh? Is there anything wrong?’ Glorfindel asked. Erestor shook his head.

‘Not as such, no. But the visit yesterday from Master Mindomen... it has made some of them anxious. Having heard from their friends about the enclave in Lord Oromë’s forests, many are hoping someone will lead them there soon and they can simply abandon the modern trappings and go back to how they used to live...’

‘Yet it is fair to say that others remember the forest, even Greenwood the Great, even fair Eryn Lasgalen as she became, with a little less longing and have become...urbanised, perhaps,’ Arveldir said, spreading his hands. ‘Our good friends Merlinith and Araspen are a case in point; they have worked through the years with fabric and yarn and have brought skills, materials and techniques they believe can be applied here, and so are not quite so eager to return to the simple life in the woods. Our king – our younger King Thranduil I know would not force any to follow him, but I do not think division will be helpful at this time.’

‘No, indeed, it is important for all Silvans to be united for their Night of the Names, even if there is some sort of schism after that,’ Erestor said. ‘Those who would retire to an arboreal life are anxious lest those who have embraced the modern life case trouble for them.’

‘And yet everyone has brought something modern with them,’ Arveldir continued. ‘It is just that what one person sees as likely to fall foul of the harbour elders, another considers it a simple development of an already-established idea. Take Merlinith’s sewing machine, for instance. Master Mindomen has a similar thing, invented by Master Baudh, but for knitting. At first the elders hated it, called it an evil, noisy contraption, the work of corrupt forces. Yet Mindomen found a way to explain to them; people have been using needles to knit for years, the machine just holds and moves more needles more quickly than an elf can... and eventually, they realised it was useful and ceased their grumbling.’

‘And so we are a little anxious... but come, you are our guests, primarily, and so, join us at the feast. We have no top table, of course, but if there were, we would place you with our king...’

‘Where he would no doubt try not to look at me when I fell short of his expectations,’ Glorfindel said with a laugh. ‘He always used to shake his head sadly when I joined the table, do you not remember, Erestor?’

‘Perhaps. But in fairness, you were not the only one.’

‘Ah, but that is nothing new,’ Ecthelion said, laughing as he put his arm around Fin’s waist. ‘Our former lord King Turgon was frequently in despair at the behaviour of some of his knights; not just Fin, of course...’

‘Have you visited New Gondolin yet?’ Erestor asked with grave courtesy, leading them to seats which, for all his words, seemed to be places of honour. ‘I recall, when Arveldir and I first arrived, you mentioned an intention...’

‘We considered it,’ Thel said. ‘But, well, we wondered if there might be another ship and did not wish to be from home.’

‘Besides, there’s plenty of time for that,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Unlike the original, New Gondolin isn’t going anywhere.’

‘Is that what happens here?’ an interested voice from one of the neighbouring seats enquired. ‘Forgive me, lords; Oreldaer, once in the Guard of Eryn Lasgalen... but is it so? All the old places are here, but made anew?’

‘Not quite,’ Ecthelion said, smiling politely at the ellon and aware that many around him were listening in. ‘There are places with comparative geography... of course, you will have heard that Lord Oromë welcomes Silvans into his forest... there is a region where the former High King Gil-Galad holds court, and a valley near there where Lord Elrond has established his home... New Gondolin is less isolated than the original, but it is on a hill, so we hear, and is lovelier than the place we knew in Middle Earth, they tell us... there are the old cities at Alqualondë, and Tirion – where my husband was born – and, of course, Valmar. But other settlements there are, where people have simply come together to live and love and mingle. The harbour town is one such, but perhaps not the best example; mostly the elders there are drawn from Noldor, with the Teleri and Silvans who live there simply leaving them to it.’

‘As do we,’ Glorfindel said with a smile. ‘The place is near enough if we want anything, but far enough not to feel crowded.’

‘Oh. And do we crowd you, my lord?’

‘Not at all; I have always been very fond of Silvans....Oh, sorry, Thel. I meant, you know, in general.’

Ecthelion cleared his throat to hide the laugh that was threatening at Fin’s apology.

‘In fact, no other thought had crossed my mind... and I will say that those Silvans I met in Mandos were far better company than some of the Noldor there... I think the fact of the matter is, Fin and I are both considerably older than most of those currently resident in the harbour town. Times and opinions change, even in the Undying Lands, and it is occasionally impossible not to be out of step with someone or other.’

Dishes and platters were brought and set on the tables, and Arveldir came to stand at the end of the tables.

‘Honoured guests, mellyn-nin, be welcome to our Yule-day Feast. Of old we would gather in the great dining room in the Elvenking’s halls, at the dark of the year, to eat together in the middle of the day, warm while all outside was cold. Now we are in the sunlight of a new day, and Yule celebrations will never be the same again. But eat, and drink, and be glad, for we are reunited after long asunder and we can find new ways to honour old celebrations.’

The meal began, the wine went round, and conversation turned away. Thel kept a weather eye on his husband, suddenly wondering if accepting this invitation had really been such a good idea for Glorfindel. There were bound to be memories associated with the day, the festival, the Silvans, and although Fin had sounded in good spirits in the garden at home when he’d referenced his first Yule in the Greenwood, his comment just now gave Thel pause... and of course, he had not thought Fin referencing any Silvan in particular until the moment his sweet, silly sunbeam had hastened to clarify.

‘More wine, Thel?’ Glorfindel filled up his beaker. ‘This isn’t bad stuff... better than the town vintner’s, anyway.’

‘Yes, indeed... Arveldir, this surely is from your own vineyards?’

From across the seating, Arveldir heard his name and replied in full, for Oreldaer was looking as if he approved the wine, too.

‘Ah, yes, it is quite interesting... while the forests of Lord Oromë are vast and deep, there are clearings, and margins at the edges of the woodlands which are ideal for growing. In fact, Erestor and I occupy ourselves overseeing the growing of sundry fruits and vines, and our estates are most productive.’

‘You, my lord? You... grow things?’

‘Indeed,’ Arveldir smiled. ‘It is less frenetic than advising the Elvenking, but as exciting, in its way. Our wines are now sought from one end of the Undying Lands to the other. That is one of the wonderful things about being here; one can continue one’s old patterns of life, or forge new paths.’

‘Or you can simply sit and watch for ships,’ Ecthelion said with a fond smile at Fin. ‘It has made us happy.’

Glorfindel smiled back and leaned in for a moment to rest his golden head on Thel’s shoulder.

‘Don’t know what we’re going to do with ourselves now,’ he said. ‘Unless some of you fellows fancy going back on a shopping expedition? I can watch for your ship coming back, then. By the way, I’m a 34 long, so Merlinith says, though why she was even looking...’

While everyone laughed, Fin slipped his arm around Thel’s waist and looked up into his eyes. Just for a moment, Ecthelion thought the light in his beloved was dimmed, like the sun seen through the early mist, but then he grinned and winked, glittering and glorious once more.

‘I hear they brought you extra-long, though, love. Fancy nice ellith like those two knowing that.’

Someone listening choked on their wine, and Thel laughed and shook his head, cuddling Fin close for a moment.

‘Now, love, it’s length of the garment, that’s all. Nothing to get excited about.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t have said that...’

‘More wine?’ Arveldir said quickly, calling a servant forward.

Finally, it seemed everyone was done eating and were content to drink and talk. Erestor caught Arveldir’s eye, and the erstwhile advisor got to his feet to draw everyone’s attention again.

‘Traditionally, the daylight hours following the Yule Feast were spent in quiet reflection prior to the solemnity of the evening rituals. But we are celebrating, as well as commemorating, and so I have asked Masters Merenor and Hanben to provide entertainment... if you have been here, in the West, for more than a century or so, this may startle you at first, but be assured, there is no cause for alarm. If you will look towards the Royal Pavilion...’

‘Goodness, whatever can it be?’ Ecthelion asked, rising to his feet to watch a mahogany-haired Silvan in modern dress fussing over a cabinet with what appeared to be a large horn attached to the top, an ellon with rich chestnut hair getting in his way while trying to help. Erestor gave his small smile.

‘Music,’ he said.

‘Ah. But there is nothing alarming about music, surel...?’ He broke off as a swirl of sound blossomed out from the cabinet. ‘Sweet Eru, what in the name of all the Valar...?’

It sounded as if there were a dozen musicians hiding somewhere and their melody issuing from the horn surmounting the cabinet in the same way the notes issued from Ecthelion’s flute. Except all the music was coming at once in a strange mixture of sounds and voices. There were instruments he did not recognise, others which were familiar... 

He grasped Glorfindel’s hand and pulled him up, heading off towards the source of the sound, his husband shrugging at Erestor and following anyway.

‘Your pardon,’ Thel said, addressing the chestnut-haired elf. ‘But this... how? And... what language, and...’

‘Lord Ecthelion, is it not?’ The ellon smiled and bowed. ‘I recognised you, forgive me, by your husband... it is the modern Common Speech, which has changed through the years. This song is about a town where an event of historic significance happened some time ago; these humans, that two thousand years seems a long time for them... but...’

‘But how?’

‘Well...’

‘Merenor, when you have finished showing off your knowledge of history to the nice lord, come and help here!’ the other ellon said briskly.

‘Ah, forgive me,’ the chestnut-haired elf – Merenor – said. ‘I would not insult you but it will be much speedier if I just say, witchcraft...’

‘No, no, that is worse! Attend the winding, I will attempt an explanation; Lord Ecthelion is a noted musician, after all... My lord, I am Hanben, I have helped construct some of these devices, it is simply a matter of knowing how the sound travels and learning how to capture it, as it were...’

Glorfindel squeezed Ecthelion’s hand.

‘If you don’t mind, Thel, I think I’d better talk to Arveldir about tonight.’

‘I will be but a moment, my light...’

‘No, it’s interesting to you, and you can explain it all to me later, that way. Go on, I know you’ll be safe with Master Hanben, he’s married to Merenor there...’ Fin smiled, bright and shiny. ‘I won’t be long, love, and if I am, well, you can come and get me.’

And with a kiss on the cheek and another squeeze of the hand, Glorfindel winked and left Ecthelion to hear all about sound waves, and wax cylinders, grooves and needles, singles, albums, and the difference between seven and twelve inches...

‘Of course, this is a very old-fashioned way of playing the music, but it is also easier to keep the machine working than some of the more recent devices which need electricity and... well, that is a power-source elves have never needed, never tried to capture,’ Hanben told him. ‘It works by winding, although we have added one or two little improvements so the machine doesn’t stop part-way through a piece of music.’

It truly was fascinating, ingenious and not too complex for him to follow. Some of the ideas were startling, it never having occurred to him to capture music in any other way than written notation, but at the end of it he was treated to another piece of music being played, a complicated, multi-layered composition that unfurled like the new day dawning, which rose and crashed like the sea and made his heart ache for the strange, stirring beauty of it.

‘That is called the New World Symphony,’ Master Hanben said softly. ‘It somehow seems appropriate. Of course, we were told, play Christmas music... that is the modern correlation to Yule, it has its own music both modern and traditional, although the tradition is hardly old, of course... but I thought you would like this instead.’

‘I do, indeed, it is... thank you, Master Hanben. I do not suppose you have written notation? I would so much like to try to learn this piece...’

‘I think there were several elves with us who took an interest in classical music,’ Hanben said. ‘Let me ask around.’

*

Glorfindel had managed to get through the meal thanks largely to the trust he knew Thel had in him, not wanting to show he was struggling, not wanting to reference anything to hurt his husband... and then, or course, he’d come out with his wonderfully sensitive comment about being fond of Silvans...! That Thel had laughed it off with no trace of distress had been reassuring, but even though everything was different – no, maybe because everything was different, he kept going back to that first Yule Feast at the halls of the Elvenking in the Greenwood.

The music-thing was a distraction, and he was almost as interested as Thel, but knew his husband would be happy knowing all the details and that would give him a chance to settle himself down a bit.

Besides, he really did want to speak to Arveldir.

The Silvan was standing with his arm around Erestor, gesturing towards the road to the harbour, and waved when he saw Glorfindel heading towards them.

‘Thank you, Glorfindel, for helping today,’ he said. ‘I hope there will be no cause for concern, and I know most of the equipment our friends wanted to send to safety will not work here in any case, but it is the principle, more than anything... I am tired of the interference of the harbour elves with newly-landed Silvans! Still, by all accounts, there are likely to be few, if any ships in the future... our king tried to bring everyone, or if not, to make a safe harbour for those who were left behind...’

‘Really? So there really will be no more ships?’

‘I do not think so.’

‘But there is no reason why you should not keep watching, since you enjoy it so,’ Erestor said with his small smile. ‘I find I do many things because I used to, not because I need to. However, I think, Glorfindel, you had another purpose in approaching us?’

‘I did... just was wondering what time you needed us this evening?’

‘Ah. Well, of course, nightfall here is several hours later than it would have been in the Greenwood... but I had wondered whether you would simply like to spend the intervening hours with us?’ Arveldir said, perhaps a little too swiftly. ‘There are many here who would be glad to talk over old times with you... although it may be that your husband will need introducing to them...’

‘It would save you the walk home and back,’ Erestor said, a tension in his voice that Glorfindel remembered of old; his friend from Imladris was worried about something. ‘And, besides...’

‘Besides, I want to speak to the clever-handed Master Baudh about something; he is with his brother, how convenient... I will wait a while, I think. He seems in the middle of a conversation. Well, I’ll just...’

He gestured vaguely, not really knowing if he should leave them to their discussion, or ask if there was anything they needed help with. Erestor provided him with an excuse to leave.

‘There is plenty of wine, if you wish to find drinks for yourself and your husband,’ he offered. ‘The ladies over there have some of the better vintage stowed away.’

Glorfindel tipped his head and made his way towards the table indicated. The Silvan ladies were very happy to serve the famed Balrog Slayer with a couple of bottles of Arveldir’s choicest reds. He gave them his best flirty smile and wandered off back towards the music.

Partway there, he paused. Nobody nearby, and he didn’t really feel like company until he’d got himself sorted out a bit, so he headed towards the outskirts of the woods where he could sit with his back to a tree and think about Yules long past...

There were too many ghosts, even though it was broad daylight, and most of them had been re-embodied now anyway. Even so, they haunted him.

He uncorked the wine and took a long draught from it before setting his back against a tree and tipping his head back. 

So long ago, so very long he’d lived, here, and Middle Earth, back to the Halls and Middle Earth again...

It really didn’t matter how many thousands of years had passed, his memory swept him back all the way to Triwathon...  
He had believed it over, done with, he had moved on, but Triwathon coming back had woken up more than just the ghost of the Silvan’s young, uncertain self; it had brought back the ghost of Glorfindel, as well, the Glorfindel who had fought so many wars in a Middle Earth where his home had long fallen into the sea, who had spent too long serving a peredhel when once he had been Lord of his own house, under a great king... who had lived with scars and burns and weals striping his skin as a reminder of his death until his next death had finally taken him out of it again…

And he knew tonight would be hard in its own way; these Silvans, they wanted to remember their first king. But they wouldn’t want Fin’s memories of him, not if they knew, not if…

Glorfindel sighed and raised the bottle in silent toast to long-dead Oropher.


	13. Remembering a Yule Long Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion coaxes Glorfindel to talk to him...

It was a little while before Ecthelion could tear himself away from the strange musical device, and when he did so, Glorfindel was nowhere near Arveldir and Erestor.

‘We told him where he could find a good bottle of wine,’ Erestor said, and so Ecthelion went to charm the Silvan ladies who were delighted to provide him with a fine-looking vintage and two cups and who pointed him in the general direction Fin had taken after leaving them.

All that remained was to find his husband.

Not quite certain what mood Glorfindel would be in, Thel realised that Fin probably wouldn’t know, either; he was very good at showing the positive emotions; love and affection were easy to him – but when he was feeling unhappy, it took him far longer to work out why, or what in particular, was causing it… perhaps because, Ecthelion acknowledged with a sigh, there were so many things in his past about which he could quite justifiably be unhappy…

It would probably be Triwathon, again. Or the Night of the Names… or being asked to remember the dead… Ecthelion had heard most of Glorfindel’s stories of Dagorlad, and wondered how his beloved would translate the horrors there into a nice memory of Oropher for the Silvans… well, Glorfindel would have gone to ground somewhere or other…

Usually, when a dark mood took him, Fin would sit and stare out to sea, or shut himself up with the goats for an hour; neither of those were likely today. But there was something about the fringes of the wood, as if it were beckoning, and as he drew near he saw an unmistakeable glint of gold amongst the underbrush.

Just inside the perimeter of the woods, resting his back against a beech and with one denim-clad leg bent at the knee and his hand resting there, head thrown back and eyes closed, was Glorfindel. Beside him were two empty bottles, and there was a sad turn to his mouth that made Thel’s heart constrict in his chest.

To announce himself, he hummed a snatch of a tune that he’d overheard an elleth singing earlier.

‘Is that my Thel…? Pretty tune, Thel…’

Ecthelion crouched down to look at his golden love, smiling.

‘There are words, too. I’ll sing it for you in full, sometime. You look restful, may I join you?’

For answer, Glorfindel shuffled over and held out his arm for Thel to sit and share the tree trunk. Opening his ever-blue eyes, he waved at the empty wine bottles and then dropped his arm round Thel’s shoulders.

‘Some wine, there. Saved you some.’

Ecthelion laughed. 

‘Are you sure?’

While Glorfindel leaned forwards to examine both bottles in surprised dismay, Ecthelion uncorked the bottle he’d brought and poured into the beakers.

‘It was a kind thought, my golden sunflower. Here.’

‘It’s been a day, Thel,’ Fin said, trying to sip rather than gulp at the wine. ‘And there’s still a lot to get through.’

Ecthelion stroked a hand over Fin’s glorious hair, smoothing the waves, fingering the braids.

‘Because we remember Oropher from his dismay in Mandos mostly. Because these Silvans, they are going to want to hear how brave and noble their first king was as he fell, and I remember you telling me how awful it was, how it broke everyone’s heart and spirit…’

Glorfindel nodded.

‘And how… Valar, Thel!’ He tipped his head back again. ‘Been thinking about that. Bad time, really, all around… Erestor might remember, he was a scribe in the train of Gil-Galad at the time… Oropher getting slapped down by a half-elf herald who shall be nameless, for being content with a kingdom of Silvans… all his experience sneered at… Gil didn’t like that Oropher was the Elvenking, himself the High-King and it didn’t wash with Oropher… so much snarling and sneering and… if Gil had just agreed to go into battle as two elven kingdoms with two kings, then Oropher would have gone along with that, I think, but no, it was almost, look, this is my fight, do it my way and that’s no way to deal with someone as proud as Oropher… felt almost as if Gil was provoking him at times… Anyway. Well. How am I going to make their king’s death sound noble and heroic after that?’

‘Well, beloved sunshine, why not simply omit the unpleasant? If Erestor was there, let him tell the tale…’

‘I could. Could do that, and there’s some who were there at Oropher’s fall… so I can’t pretty it up too much anyway… ah, brings it all back, though, I’d been so long away and all I could think was, very well, if this be it, at least I’ll be back with my Thel soon… except some of us survived…’

‘And much good came from the losses, hard though they were to bear. But, my shining flower, why distress yourself so? Why not put this from your memory now? Time enough later…’

‘Because it’s all that’s stopping me thinking about the other memories, Thel, and I… been trying to avoid them, thought I could dance around the edges, brush it off but, oh, love, Thel, love, I can’t help…’

‘Come with me. Come.’

With no real idea where he was taking his sad golden hero, Ecthelion pulled Glorfindel to his feet and put an arm around him, cuddling more than steadying. His fingers found their way into the back pocket of Fin’s jeans, and he caressed the thick denim lightly.

‘Oh, Fin, I do like the sensation of your muscles through this fabric,’ he said, leading off. ‘Perhaps when we stop, you might show me the intricacies of this zip-thing? You know, down and up…?’

Glorfindel shook his head, golden hair shimmering in the dappled light.

‘I… well, not quite in the mood, love. Sorry, I… it’s just…’

‘Later, then. When we have more privacy, I know, I am terrible, leaping on you in almost public places… but you are so beautiful to me, how can I help it?’

‘I know you’re trying to make me feel better, I know you love me, Fin, it’s just…’

‘Glorfindel, my darling buttercup… you are beautiful to me, always, in all your guises. Sad Fin moves my heart and is so lovely with the glitter of tears in his eyes, and happy, laughing Fin makes my fëa soar, but when my golden love throws back his head, his skin lightly flushed and his eyes so deep and dark because of the love we share, ai, that Fin, that Fin burnishes my heart with love… I love you in all your aspects, darling one, but I know if I cannot love the sadness out of you then you must talk it out. And I gather from your reluctance that this is something you do not particularly wish to share, but you will hurt yourself if you do not free these thoughts from your heart.’

Glorfindel sighed, came to a halt and put his hands on Thel’s shoulders, looking up at him.

‘I can’t shake the memories of that first Yule I shared with… with the Silvans. And you’ve been so good, Thel, and I don’t want to hurt you by talking about… about how weak I was…’

Ecthelion smiled, grinned, and burst out laughing, watching the surprise grow in his beloved’s eyes; surprise, and perhaps hurt, to have gained such a response.

‘Forgive me, my sunflower. But, really… you? Weak? Consider a moment… torn from your peace to sail back to unknown lands, to learn your home was gone, to be thrust amongst strangers and forge a new path… to fight, and protect, and strive… Fornost, Dagorlad, the War of the Ring… granted, you were not at the fore, perhaps, of some of them, but you were there, beloved, you fought, you could have died… again… and then you DID die again, so do not you ever say you were weak, you were never weak, beloved.’

‘That’s not what it feels like now.’ Glorfindel grimaced. ‘At the time, I… anyway. Triwathon is here, married, well, not right here… but that’s good, he’s with Parvon, and so I…’

Thel put his arms around Glorfindel and sat down, pulling his warrior down also, gathering him in to hold Fin’s back against his chest, his legs either side of Fin’s hips and his back against the trunk of a friendly elm.

‘You are not weak. You were not weak, you were lonely and lost and I told you to love if you could. I freed you.’ He wrapped his arms around Fin’s broad chest, holding him tight. ‘You needed emotional support. And you came back to me. My celandine, did you not wonder why I stayed in the Halls?’

‘Time passes more easily there, that’s what Lord Námo said…’

‘Yes, it does. But also, there is no real touch there, no sense of connection. Outside, I would have met and mingled with other elves, and I feared – I so feared I would be tempted from loneliness… I wanted to wait for you, and I knew I would have none of the trials ahead of me that you did, beloved flower of gold, I had no excuse, you had every need… I wanted to be yours only, you to be first in my new body as you were in my old heart.’

‘Oh, Thel…’

‘And then you got in the way of a stupid dragon and you died again. So I was doubly glad I’d waited… and you were again first in me, and on me, and I was your first in this glorious body, love… what’s past is over, what’s gone, is done. Feel free to share your memories with me of that Yule…’

Ecthelion had his own memories, of course, but for now he kept them to himself even as he felt Glorfindel’s chest press against his arms as his golden one drew a deep breath prior to speaking. He snuggled his arms gently, trying to keep his mood calm and his heart open, but, really, how many more times would he have to tell Fin really, it was fine, over, done, you moved on, Triwathon moved on, we are here, we are now, I love you…? How many times could he, before he broke, and Fin saw the hurt it engendered in him…?

But it didn’t matter, not really; this was his Glorfindel, his shining daffodil of a hero, and whatever he needed, he would do to make him gleam and glow and be happy again.

‘It’s not even as if they’re the sort of memories you couldn’t share with, well, anyone,’ Fin began. ‘Except… it seems unkind, Thel, to make you hear it…’

‘My golden one, we both know you will be easier once you have spoken and no longer need avoid the thoughts which made thinking of poor, dead kings preferable…’

He felt Fin’s ribs move in what might almost have been a chuckle.

‘Yes. I’m probably being silly again… it’s just… the trees, the Silvans… mind, it wasn’t warm and pleasant; the night before had been cold and wet, during the night the rain cleared but the frost came down… morning was bright and brittle, not that I saw much of it…’

‘Ai, in some ways you have not changed, my darling slugabed!’

‘Ha, well, I have more excuse these days, Thel, I’m married to the moonlight and starlight… and you know us elves, never could stop looking at the stars…’

‘Sweetheart, thank you.’

‘So, the morning… crisp and cold, him busy…’

‘You can name him, he is not dead, after all. Triwathon was busy…’

‘Yes, he’d become a captain… I was so proud of him, quite, shy little thing when I first met him. Needed to come into the daylight a bit, you know. But while I was away, he’d really grown in confidence. So. Him on guard duty, me reporting to Arveldir, I think. Then the big Yule day meal and this sense of anticipation growing in the hall… as if there was something really big and exciting and yet solemn coming to look forward to… but nobody saying out loud what it was, had to wait to find out… we went for a walk, into the woods. It was still cold, but the trees were nice. And he… sorry, he looked gorgeous against the trees, all that rich hair… it was nearly dark when we got back, and don’t you be smiling, Thel, it was the Greenwood, you didn’t let your guard down for a minute, even inside the perimeter. We talked, that’s all. Besides, too many other people about anyway.’

Ecthelion swallowed, closed his eyes to blink back tears, hoping they wouldn’t show in his voice.

‘Not smiling, my glorious buttercup.’

‘Well, then. Back to the rooms, lots of exchanges with people on the way… “may the observances bring you only joy”, that sort of thing. And we had to get ready for the meal. Four places set, just for the two of us. That’s when he – Triwathon explained. The places were for our dead friends, and we were to wear what they liked us in…’

‘Sweet Eru, do tell me, Fin, you didn’t sit down in just your smile and your circlet?’

Now Glorfindel really did laugh, his shoulders resting back against Thel’s chest and looking up at him, folding his hands over Thel’s enfolding arms.

‘No! The servant was bringing the food, I wore leggings and a shirt… barefoot and unbound, though, how you liked to find me at the end of your day in Gondolin.’

‘Smiling and offering me lips sweet with wine when you were first to get home... Yes. Happy memories, my love.’

‘I never stopped thinking of you. Missing you. Especially in a fight…’

‘Ah, you say the sweetest things…!’

‘…wondering if this time would be it, and I’d be on my way back to you…’

Ecthelion nuzzled his cheek against Fin’s hair. 

‘You’re here now, love.’

‘Feel safe with you, Thel, like I’ve never felt anywhere else except in your arms.’

‘You were telling me about the Night of the Names…?’

‘We ate, we drank to our friends. We said the names. I spoke of my Lord of the Fountains, my Ecthelion…’

‘You did. You spoke of my laugh, I believe, and said how loving I was…’

‘You knew?’

‘Lord Námo sought me. He took me to the place where the Silvans gathered to hear themselves remembered. Then there were voices, soft, imprecise. But it was as if each of the dead heard their loved ones clearly. Suddenly, your voice, my beloved, I heard you… Námo made me promise not to tell you until your Night came… it was such comfort…’

‘Triwathon talked about his lost friend, I talked about you. We cried. Ai, I wept like an elfling, sobbed my heart out, love, missed you so much… felt better, later.’

Glorfindel fell silent. Then he huffed a little laugh.

‘Thing is, and it wasn’t funny at the time, but afterwards… long time afterwards… Triwathon talking about this friend of his, acknowledging it wasn’t really serious but still sad and missing him a lot… you know who it was, you saw… Maedon! Maedon the poacher-turned-brewer-married-an-elleth-after-all Maedon… to think of Triwathon getting maudlin over him!’

Ecthelion laughed, shifted position to cuddle Fin more easily.

‘Well, he showed excellent taste when he chose you to follow after Maedon, give him comfort, my darling … and you are as different from Maedon as anyone could wish…’

‘Thank you, lovely Thel. I think he was a bit taken aback, you know, to find Maedon married and all.’

Glad the conversation was moving back towards the present and that Glorfindel seemed less unhappy, Thel slid his hands gently down towards Glorfindel’s belt buckle will intimate intent.

‘So, do you feel like giving me a lesson in zips now, my delicious dandelion?’

Glorfindel wriggled and arranged himself to make it easier for Thel to access his clothing but protested the name.

‘Is that the best you can do?’ he said. ‘Dandelion? Have you run out of the really good yellow flowers so soon?’

‘Well, I had not really thought I would need quite so many endearments to cheer you…’

‘You missed out the best one, you forgot “goldenrod” …’ He drew Thel’s hand downwards. ‘And as you can see, it’s really quite appropriate…’


	14. Unelven...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a confrontation between the town elders and the Silvans attracts unexpected attention...

By the end of a rather fun hour, Ecthelion acknowledged himself master of the zip fasteners, or at least, he knew as much about their workings and potential for play as Glorfindel did…

Zips firmly up, clothing tidied, he lay with Fin in his arms and stroked the gold of his hair, feeling the smile in his fëa. A distant swirl of artificial music filtered through the trees and provided a soft accompaniment to his sense of calm joy.

‘Better, my goldenrod?’ he asked.

Glorfindel laughed and cuddled against him.

‘Much better, my Thel. You always know how to make me feel better.’

‘Well, I feel better now, too. You have your own magic, Glorfindel, your own way of making me feel special.’

The music drifted, stopped abruptly. At first they thought little of it but then voices, growing raised and heated began shattering the harmony of the afternoon.

‘Trouble,’ Glorfindel said, getting to his feet and reaching for Ecthelion’s hand. ‘Come on, love… ah, it’s a pity, though! It was becoming such a nice afternoon, I was going to teach you Advanced Zipping Up…’

‘Ai, and you are expert because you have been wearing jeans for a full half hour longer than I…? Well, come, let’s make sure there is not a kinslaying about to take place; I am sure it would quite ruin the mood of the forthcoming Night of the Names…’

They headed back towards the Silvans' campsite, loping through the trees swiftly so they could arrive soon but emerge from cover and simply appear to have been but strolling. Fin cast a casual-seeming arm around Thel’s shoulders, easy and utterly belying the thrumming of his nerves; Thel could feel the tension through the contact, and hoped whatever was going on could be easily resolved…

Coming clear of the trees, they had a good, clear view of the situation; it was enough to make them hasten.

There appeared to be a stand-off between a deputation of town Noldor and a group of about a dozen Silvans who were gathered protectively around the music producing device, the rest holding back, watchful and wary of the scene that unfolded before them; to Ecthelion’s delight he saw the Chief Elder of the harbour being berated by an angry elleth with one fist jammed on her hip while she wagged a finger in his face with her other hand. Her voice was clear and carrying and Glorfindel laughed softly.

‘Ai, Thel! It’s our friend Mistress Merlinith!’  
‘Indeed. I am most glad, dear goldenrod, that she is our friend… Remind me to always be polite to the lady!’

‘…Unelven?’ Merlinith was saying. ‘Unelven? How would you know, shutting yourself up by choice in a town when there are lovely trees all around?’

‘This…this mechanical device… with sounds… it is… witchcraft, Silvan witchcraft!’

‘Then how can it be unelven if it is Silvan? Really, you’re an elder? Did nobody every teach you how to marshal an argument?’

‘The things it is saying… it is wrong… you cannot bring such modern contrivances into Valinor, it is not right, it is against the Valar…’

‘Against the Valar, indeed?’ Merlinith sniffed, tossed her head, and folded her arms across her chest defiantly. ‘How would you know? Do you speak with them? Do they visit you?’ She caught sight of Glorfindel and Ecthelion and a worrying light gleamed in her eyes. ‘Here are my good friends Fin and Thel! I happen to know that our most respected Lord Námo visits them from time to time. And it is said that the Lord of the Fountains has more than a passing acquaintanceship with the Lord of the Waters…’

‘Ai, the dear lady learns swiftly!’ Ecthelion murmured. ‘Fin, dearest, I think we have just become embroiled…’

‘Have a feeling Námo’s going to be a bit busy at the moment, though… don’t suppose you fancy giving Lord Ulmo a call, Thel…?’

‘If I must… but I would need to talk to the fountain or visit the ocean to do so and perhaps help is needed more swiftly than that… besides, town Noldor, it is a little beneath him…’

He lifted his hand to wave easily at Merlinith, noting as he did so that Arveldir and Erestor were close at hand, poised, he thought, to intervene if necessary.

‘…That aside,’ the elder was saying, ‘the clothes… they are most definitely wrong! And that ellon there… You! How dare you come to Valinor dressed so disrespectfully…?’

He pointed with shaking fingers at Canadion, who drew himself up to his full height, made more than usually tall thanks to his three-inch wedge heeled sandals, maintaining a dignified silence. At his side, Thiriston growled softly.

‘But he is not dressed disrespectfully,’ a new voice, the soft and gentle tones of Araspen broke in. ‘You have been too long away from fashionable people, sir, if you do not know that the rules decree, do not show cleavage and thigh at the same time for decency, and see? His knees are covered as is his décolleté… it is really most modest garb…’

‘But it is female garb! He is not female!’

‘Elder Doldaer! I confess to a certain curiosity… how might you know what is female garb and what is not?’ Ecthelion asked. ‘You have been here for almost as long as Fin has, this time round, and so you really can only be guessing… besides, the modern clothes are rather lovely, do not you think…? No, obviously not…’

‘You… you are… those things you are wearing…!’

‘Yes, quite, they are delightful, are they not? They have zips which go down and up, it is rather entertaining… and, oh look, I see you are in long formal robes today, do you know, there is not a lot of difference between robes and dresses, when you think about it… or have you never thought about it? Are you finished haranguing our guests, yet? Or was there anything in particular you wished to confiscate for the sake of their fëar, of course?’

‘My lord Ecthelion! You are a respected figure in our settlement, not to mention your honoured place in the history of elvenkind, and so I do not like to be at odds with you…’

‘Then do not be,’ Ecthelion put in. The elder disregarded the interruption and continued unabated.

‘…but this really is most unhelpful of you… these… arrivals… do not seem to know how to behave here, what is allowed and what is not, and it is our duty, as elders, to make sure they do not cause offence…’

‘These new arrivals are Silvan, not Noldor; they have their own king to lead them and no need of your intervention. That the Elvenking is called away on urgent business is unfortunate, but surely everything of this sort can wait unto he is returned?’ Ecthelion suggested. ‘Today is a day of important ritual for our new friends, which we should consider, and treat with respect…’

‘But all the more reason to ensure they do not offend our great ones! This device which makes such noises! It cannot be right, it must be stopped! It is unelven…’

‘In fact, it is not, and I happen to know the elf who helped design the workings behind it, he is just over there…’ Merlinith suddenly fell silent, the argument forgotten as she turned to seek Master Hanben and her gaze lit on a stirring at the edge of the trees. Immediately she folded down into as elegant a curtsey as she could, modern clothes permitting.

All at once the elder realised he had lost the attention of the gathered Silvans as he saw the same sight Merlinith had. As one the Silvans bowed, dropped to their knees. Here and there, many amongst the newly-landed Silvans prostrated themselves fully on the ground. For a moment, Glorfindel and Ecthelion were as mystified as was Doldaer, but then looked in the direction of the Silvans’ obeisance to see a lordly figure in hide leggings and an open leather waistcoat exposing his strong arms and powerful chest. He was mounted on a white horse and had come to a halt at the edge of the trees.

There was a sense of muted radiance to him, and as he moved, light glittered and gleamed around him, as if he were a vessel filled with light and movement caused it to spill from his form. His long, dark hair swirled and flowed around his shoulders and back as if stirred by a breeze all of its own.

At once Thel bowed, and dropped to one knee as at his side Glorfindel did the same; the townsfolk also hastening to make proper obeisance. None looked up at the sound of approaching hoof beats, but then a strong, brave voice addressed them.

‘Welcome to the Undying Lands, my Silvan friends! Rise, now, and resume your activities.’

A certain degree of relaxation filtered through the camp as everyone unfolded and rose to their feet. Those Silvans who were already resident, who had come to welcome the new arrivals, began to speak, to reassure.

‘…yes, indeed, it is our Lord Oromë, but we are like children to him, we need not fear…’

‘…as long as you don’t go hunting on his reserves…’

‘Well, quite…’

‘It seems I have arrived in the midst of an argument,’ Lord Oromë said, coming to a halt near the confrontation. ‘Enlighten me as to who amongst you is in dispute with whom?’

Arveldir came forward and bowed.

‘My lord, Elder Doldaer visited to express his concern lest our newly-arrived friends accidentally contravened some or other ruling… we are sure it is well intentioned…’

Merlinith sniffed again, and not even a hard glance from Arveldir quelled her.

‘Perhaps you did not hear, Lord Arveldir, the part where he said we were Silvan witches? Or that he said Canadion, who saved the king’s life more than once, was improperly dressed? Or accused us – us! – of being unelven…?’

‘In fact, Mistress Merlinith, I did, but it is in the interests of all not to make accusations…’

‘Such as those this elder here was making…?’

‘Merlinith, please…’

Oromë interrupted.

‘Oh, the town elders! I do not have much to do with towns and such!’ 

The Huntsman of the Valar dismounted and turned away from the confrontation, leaving his horse to its own devices. He moved amongst the Silvans, stopping beside those who had thought it necessary to prostrate themselves and who had not yet dared to move. His voice was softer now, but still carried, and his words kind.

‘Come, there is no need for this, you are welcome here, children of the forests as you are… you, here, I know you, you made toys for the elks and the elk-tamers disapproved it…’ 

Oromë dropped to sit cross-legged beside the elf addressed, patted his shoulder and encouraged him up.

‘There, that is better! And you kept the old songs alive, you taught them to your sons… You are…? I feel I should know…. Ah, I think I know! You are Merenor! Your descendants and your friends who already are here speak often of you.’

‘Great lord, I am indeed… I… for many happy years, I served amongst the herds… it is a thing now, “environmental enrichment”, it is often done where animals are kept away from their natural habitat, and…I love the old stories, Lord…’

‘And would you happen to know anything about this unelven invention?’

‘I know a lot about it, great Lord, but my husband knows more…’

‘Show it me, then? Oh, introduce us first?’

Ecthelion and Glorfindel looked on as Lord Oromë, Huntsman of the Valar, was treated to a demonstration of the music device, and was suitably impressed by its workings.

‘I will not ask “how”,’ he said. ‘But it is obviously not witchcraft, and what could be more elf-like than wanting to capture music? As for what it is saying…’

‘The language of the Edain, Lord, has changed, but the sense of the song is…’

Oromë lifted a hand to gently silence Master Hanben, who was attempting the explanation.

‘Do not trouble; I have kept up with the changes in the round world east… Hmm… “We three eastern rulers are bringing presents from far away. We have passed over moorland and pasture, high peaks and waterfalls, towards that star… O wondrous star, light star with bright regal beauty… leading us west, always west, bring us to your source…” Very nice, very elf-like.’ He tipped his head towards Doldaer. ‘What is unelven about singing praise to the stars…? About heading West…?’

His face grew stern and lordly as he allowed a glimpse of his nature to show through, his wild hair stirring as he addressed the harbour folk.

‘These Silvans are under my care, Noldor townspeople, and you may pass the word that if you offend them, you offend me. Now, you may go about your business and we will not mention this again. Not unless we must.’

A lift of an eyebrow, a flick of the fingers towards the deputation sprinkling light as he moved. Some of them managed to bow; all of them retreated.

‘Ah, that’s better,’ Lord Oromë said. ‘Now… if you are willing, I would like to join your celebrations; I have become used to hearing the observations of the Night of the Names in my forest, and I gather this will be a special occasion… if you have no objections, that is? Arveldir, you are in charge, I expect?’

Arveldir bowed.

‘I am guardian and advisor only, Lord. But after a fashion, his majesty the Elvenking left Erestor and I in nominal charge, with Commanders Thiriston and Canadion leading the observances tonight. Lords Glorfindel and Ecthelion have been most welcoming and helpful, and his majesty invited them to share our evening, for they have their own memories to add to ours.’

‘You I’ve seen before,’ Oromë said with a glint at Glorfindel. ‘Your companion, of course, I know by repute… and it strikes me, that if anyone is like to know where the wine is kept, Glorfindel, it will be you…’

‘Indeed, Lord, allow me… Thel, are you coming?’

It was almost a relief to escape from under Lord Námo’s presence and go in search of wine.

‘Glad we’ve been counted on the side of the Silvans,’ Fin said, with a shudder even as he smiled. ‘I think of them all, I’d fear Lord Oromë most, in a fight… not that I’m likely to fall foul of him, but…’

‘Indeed, he is most impressive, the wildness about him… Ah. Ladies, you may have noticed we have a most esteemed guest at the feast… perhaps you have been saving the really good wine somewhere…? No…?’ Ecthelion sighed. ‘Fin, dearest, go and see if there is any fine vintage stowed away in the king’s pavilion, would you? I will take this back to the Lord.’

When Ecthelion returned, he found Oromë already supplied with wine, and smiling at a cluster of Silvans who were beginning to lose their awe of him a little. The Huntsman was asking seemingly simple questions, but a gleam in his dark eyes suggested to Ecthelion that he was weighing up the answers according to some private lights.

‘And so, this wonderful music machine… did you bring more things of its kind with you?’

Several voices chimed together, explaining about little metal boxes no bigger than your hand, but could hold more music than you could listen to in weeks, and sadly they needed special power to work, but luckily, Master Hanben had a way of using the sunlight, perhaps…

At this point, Master Hanben grew a little flustered, waving his hands to interrupt.

‘If… if such things are not prohibited,’ he said. ‘It is modern technology, yes, and on the round world there are many amazing things that would not be proper here, I know. But this… it is just music…’

‘I cannot speak for all, you understand,’ Oromë said. ‘But on my own lands I can order things as I will. And I would say… probably… pending a more thorough investigation, which cannot happen today, this is your day of ritual… I would not care for you to make such devices, I think, but if you can make them work… and keep them working… I see no harm in your music things.’

A murmur of relief ran through the Silvans. 

‘But what do you think, Lord of the Fountains, you and your husband? For if any residents were to protest against such things, you are amongst the longest-resident, and your opinions ought to be given more note…’

‘Lord of the Hunt, I adore the music device, and there is wonderful music held on these round discs! I… the other recording things I have not heard… but I am intrigued by the Elvenking’s bicycle, and approve Mistress Merlinith and Araspen’s sewing machine… and the new garments, lord, the fastenings… my husband is most taken with the fastenings...’

‘Much more practical,’ Master Merenor said swiftly, hoping to divert attention away from the bicycle. ‘I am sure Merlinith has several extra pairs of jeans, my lord if you…’

Oromë made a swift gesture, as graceful as any the Elvenking might make, but made feral and wild, somehow.

‘Let the Elvenking’s bicycle wait until the Elvenking himself can discuss it. What I wish to know is have any of you brought any modern weapons? I know there are such things…’

There was an instant clamour the tone almost outraged as all the new arrivals tried to answer at once.

‘What, like the guns and things?’

‘Bombs? Of course not!’

‘We are Silvans, why would we want such horrors? Why bring them here?’

‘If anything is against the Valar, it is such weapons, surely the work of dark forces…’

‘We would not taint Valinor with horrors like pistols…’

‘…rifles…’

‘…semi-automatic machine guns…’

‘Kalashnikovs or AK-9s…’

‘…not that we know anything about those, do we, Araspen…?’

‘…except for what we read in the survivalist magazines, Merlinith. By mistake. Besides, even the crossbow is not right, not proper, not… not Silvan!’

Oromë nodded, smiled, held wide his arms.

‘And this is why I love you, my Silvans! More than one boat foundered on the outer islands with unelven weaponry aboard, its Noldor stranded, some of its cargo smashed free of packing and found by Lord Ulmo, who saw fit to present the matter to us in convocation… that your vessel did not founder suggests to me there was nothing on board that was against our hopes for you, or threatened our peace.’ He smiled, baring white, dangerous teeth. ‘So… Glorfindel has been sent in search of wine…?’

Ecthelion bowed.

‘My spouse, in fact, is seeking the Elvenking’s special reserves... He seems to have been delayed, perhaps trying to ensure he finds the very best… in the interim, my lord, here is a lesser vintage, but presented with respectful wishes from the ladies of the beverage table yonder…’ He presented the bottle with an elegant bow. ‘And, if my lord will excuse me, I will seek my golden sunbeam and enquire how his search progresses.’


	15. Remembering Oropher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Glorfindel speaks at the Night of the Names...

Glorfindel was lying on his back amongst a pile of cushions in the Elvenking’s pavilion, staring up at the canvas and with two empty bottles discarded at his side. He smiled in a vaguely fuzzy sort of way when Thel came in, and lifted a hand in greeting.

‘Hello, my starshine… I thought… better make sure the wine’s up to the job…’

Ecthelion laughed, and dropped to sit next to Fin, stroking the golden hair back to tuck the stray tress behind his husband’s ear.

‘And your conclusion…?’

‘It will do, I suppose…’

‘If there is any remaining…’

‘Ah.’ Glorfindel tapped the side of his nose, missing on his first attempt. ‘Thought of that. Sampled the ones there were more than one of. This one… not bad. The other… pretty good. Bit on the weak side…’

‘Sweetheart, my goldenrod…’ _Are you all right…?_ ‘I think you are most noble to conflate your duties as wine-fetcher with those of wine-taster, but we are waited for… will you stay here and… rest… while I convey the wines to Lord Oromë?’ 

Glorfindel sat up, too quickly, and clutched at Ecthelion for balance.

‘Ai, so that’s who the wine is for…! I had forgotten… no, I’ll come with you…’

‘As you wish, my sweet sunlight.’ 

Ecthelion rose to his feet, checked the labels on the bottles, and sought matching ones from amongst the crate Fin had unearthed amongst the drapery of the tent. Locating the right bottles, he took a modest pair of each and turned back to where Fin had managed to get to his feet and was swaying ever so slightly… unlike Fin to drink so much during the day, the two bottles earlier, the shared one with Thel in the woods, and now another couple…? True, he metabolised it swiftly, and he had innate healing abilities which could correct the effects, when he remembered to do so, but generally speaking, this was out of character, even though it was undoubtedly a difficult day for Thel’s most beloved golden hero…

As if realising what he’d done, Fin nudged the empties with his foot.

‘They’re small bottles, right, Thel?’

‘Yes, beloved, quarter size. Obviously.’ Ecthelion put a laugh into his voice, determined not to seem worried and therefore to fret his husband. ‘Really, Fin darling, we had better hurry, or Oromë may send those slavering hounds of his to see where we have got to…’

‘Ooh, slavering hounds, I pretended to be one, remember…?’

‘I do indeed, and you were far preferable to the real thing, darling. Now. Come along.’

The fresh air made Fin stagger for a few steps, and then he shook his golden head and straightened up, casting an easy arm around Thel’s shoulders and showing no signs of being in the slightest bit tipsy.

‘These modern wines, they’re hardly stronger than fruit cordial, Thel,’ he said, by way of explanation. ‘Very lightweight; I’m not sure Oromë will be impressed… the good Dorwinion Thranduil used to keep, ah, now that was a wine…’

‘And there you have the advantage of me, beloved; it is not something I have ever tasted, nor ever will, I fear.’

‘I’d rather have bad wine, and you to kiss the taste away, than the best vintage in the world, Thel.’

Ecthelion was still smiling at the compliment when they presented the bottles to Lord Oromë.

‘What now?’ Glorfindel asked as the music machine – gramophone, as Master Hanben called it - began another melody. ‘Seems we’re not needed for a while, shall we, oh, I don’t know, go home, explore these new zips again…?’

‘What a charming idea!’ Ecthelion said, tugged by the temptation, caught by the music. ‘All the Silvans are happy, seated about Lord Oromë’s feet like elfling storytime… Ah. Except for Erestor looking over...’

‘And the music box, Thel, I know you love the music… come on. Shall we see if Erestor actually wants something, or if he’s just trying to find something to rest his eyes on?’

Erestor approached, his serious face lightened by his fractional smile.

‘Well, this has been most fortuitous!’ he said. ‘Lord Oromë’s arrival, just in time to send the elders on their way…’

‘But not so soon that Mistress Merlinith was able to show that she, and her friends, will not be cowed so easily,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Do we think, perhaps, the lord was waiting before he made himself known, to allow the Silvans to show their courage?’

‘Or was it so Doldaer and his friends could make bigger fools of themselves?’ Glorfindel asked with a grin. ‘Whichever it might be, I enjoyed seeing them sent away with their tails between their legs.’

‘Yes, indeed, it makes one almost ashamed to be Noldo, at times… but I am come to say, do not think that because Oromë is here, your presence is not wanted, not valued. In fact, Arveldir wished me to say he would be sorry if you thought you ought to go home for the afternoon… please, come and join us near the gramophone…’

The afternoon passed into early evening, the newly arrived Silvans grew more at ease around Lord Oromë, there were more reunions of old friends and families, and many laughing exchanges as people whose names were to have been spoken after dark suddenly arrived in daylight, reborn into their bodies and come now to share the Night of the Names with those who had remembered them through long years of separation.

‘That’s going to happen a lot,’ Glorfindel remarked. ‘If what our friend Námo says is anything to go by, his halls are almost empty these days…’

Finally, the sun began to settle westwards over the plain, Arveldir and Erestor nodded to Glorfindel and Ecthelion and began to issue orders, to make requests, and preparations for the ritual of the Night of the Names began in earnest. Now Fin rose to his feet, tugging Ecthelion’s hand to draw him away towards the sand dunes.

‘Just a hug, Thel, on the beach, while the sand’s still warm from the sun. We’re going to be tied up with this most of the night, you know, and I want a little time alone with you. Just hugging… well, maybe with lips, do you think…? And… and if we’re private enough, with zipping…?’

‘And even, perhaps, unzipping…?’

‘Oh, Thel, that sounds like the best idea yet…’

They found a sheltered spot along the coast a little way towards the villa where the dunes curved and undulated and had been warmed all day by the sun. Glorfindel took off his footwear and rolled up his jeans so he could paddle in the water’s edge, Ecthelion sitting hugging his knees and smiling as Fin let the cold water refresh his feet… the simple things, at times, were the best things, and he found it endlessly comforting that Glorfindel, after all the horrors of his earlier lives, could still find delight in the action of the tide washing over his toes.

There was something irresistible about Fin’s delight, and before long, Ecthelion had shed his own boots and folded up the hems of his jeans, sliding his hand into Glorfindel’s and gasping as the cold sea water frothed around his ankles. Fin grabbed at him, pulled him close to kiss him, wrapping his arms around him and they stood in the embrace, kissing while the tide pawed at their feet and ankles, until a particularly strong wave pushed at their calves and threatened to soak their rolled-up trouser legs.

Glorfindel laughed, and lifted Ecthelion’s midnight hair to link hands behind his neck, no sign of him having demolished several bottles of wine already that day, no trace of his low mood left as he unravelled Ecthelion’s braids and smoothed his obsidian tresses.

‘Have you ever thought, Thel?’ he began. ‘How lucky we are here?’

Ecthelion nodded, smiling, although his eyes were serious with the enormity of everything that made him feel blessed.

‘I have you,’ he said. ‘I love you, and know I am loved. We have a joyous life spent doing what pleases us, enough happening around us to keep us entertained, but otherwise with very few interruptions to our peace. Speaking for myself, yes, I am most blessed.’

Glorfindel hugged him, kissed his neck while Ecthelion in turn released his braid clasps and freed his golden tresses from confinement.

‘I love you Thel,’ Glorfindel said. ‘I’m so happy here with you. When… you know, when I get down-hearted… it’s not you, you know. It’s never you.’

‘I know, my golden joy. It is the past, refusing to let you go.’

‘It squashes me sometimes, Thel. And tonight… today…’ He broke off to sigh. ‘I thought I’d be all right, but… it isn’t over yet.’

‘You,’ Ecthelion said, pausing to kiss Fin’s lower lip and slide his hands into the glorious hair, his thumbs brushing Fin’s cheeks to rest near his ears. ‘You are my sunshine.’

A slightly silly grin began to spread on Glorfindel’s face as he looked up into Ecthelion’s expressive eyes.

‘Oh, Thel, I…’

Another kiss to silence him, and Ecthelion continued, half closing his eyes for emphasis and with a slow shake of the head. ‘…My only sunshine…’ He smiled then, and his musical voice began to croon the rest of the words. _‘You make me happy… when skies are grey…’_

Now Glorfindel was really grinning, beaming in fact, sliding his hands over the firm curves of Thel’s buttocks.

 _‘…you’ll never know, dear… how much I love you…’_ Here, Ecthelion sighed and kissed Glorfindel’s cheek to finish the verse singing softly into his ear. _‘…please don’t take my sunshine away…’_

Glorfindel shivered and his arms closed around his husband, hugging him gently.

‘Thel, my moonflower, my star’s radiance, that was the tune from before, wasn’t it?’

‘I said I’d save it for the right moment.’ Ecthelion smiled. ‘Come along. The sky is turning from blue to purple; I think we have just enough time.’

*

They arrived back at the camp to raised eyebrows and pursed lips from Arveldir and Erestor.

‘We wondered whether we might need to seek you,’ Arveldir said mildly. ‘That, perhaps, you might have decided to change for the occasion…?’

Glorfindel swaggered and grinned.

‘Oh, my very first Night of the Names, I was told – what the one you miss would have liked to see… and even though he’s not dead any longer, this is how Thel likes me. When clothes aren’t optional, that is…’

‘I suppose that is something to be thankful for,’ Arveldir murmured, causing Erestor to laugh.

‘Dear one, do not worry so! Come, let me show our guests to their seats while you address the gathering.’

Shaking with supressed laughter, Glorfindel put his arm around Thel and followed Erestor to places at the tables. These had been arranged in a long row, with a large chair moved from the Elvenking’s tent and decked out as if a throne. A circlet woven of flowers, berries and foliage sat on its seat, and before it was an empty place setting. The Silvan with the gorgeous footwear was seated at once side of the throne, his big, powerful husband the other, with Lord Oromë opposite. Several of his Host occupied seats at the table, the gleam around their forms outlining them as Maiar.

Arveldir came to stand behind the throne, resting his hands on it as he addressed the gathering.

‘Welcome, Silvans from the East, welcome friends from the West reunited, welcome great Lord Oromë and your Lords and Ladies of the Hunt… we are honoured to share our observances with you tonight.’

He paused for his words to settle on them before continuing.

‘This night, this special Night, we ask that you defer your private observances until later; his majesty Thranduil, the Elvenking, has asked that tonight we concentrate on one name, on that of his father, our beloved former king. Later, if you wish, if there are those with whom you are not yet reunited… but I rather think they may be happily few. So. The wine is served, the plates are filled. Pray give your attention to our Speaker of the First Name and First Respondent, Commanders Canadion and Thiriston.’

With a smile that didn’t look exactly easy, pretty Canadion got to his feet and lifted his goblet, catching Thiriston’s eye. The more robust elf gave him a small smile and a nod which seemed to settle him. He smiled more freely this time, and addressed the table. 

‘Great Lord Oromë, Master of the Hunt, Lord Arveldir, Master Erestor… Lords Glorfindel and Ecthelion… my friends and my family, will you ask with me tonight as I say: Commander Thiriston, loyal warrior of the Greenwood, pray tell – for I am younger, and my recollections do not go back so far – do you remember our first lord, the noble King Oropher?’

The skin at the edges of Thiriston’s eyes crinkled as he smiled.

‘Aye, husband, Commander Canadion; I remember Oropher. I followed him into battle, I was there when… I saw his courage, his bravery, how his only thought was to protect us, his Silvans. I am proud to be able to say – I remember our good king Oropher! Is there another here who can say the same?’

Glorfindel took a breath, ready to rise and speak, but Erestor was before him.

‘I remember Oropher,’ he said. ‘I remember your king. He was tall and proud and magnificent in his rage… always in council he argued for what was best for his people, his Silvans. He spoke passionately, citing the many losses his kingdom had suffered, besides which those of the Men and of the Noldor seemed trivial indeed… he loved you, he was spurred on to greater efforts by you and I would have followed him in a heartbeat…’ Erestor gave his small smile. ‘I was a very minor scribe, and would not have been much use, I think, amongst the Host of the Greenwood… but your king stirred my fëa in ways my own lord did not.’

‘I remember brave Oropher, our king.’ 

The voice came from the darkness beyond the tables. An ellon moved into the circle of lamplight, a lantern in his hand. At his side the most beautiful Silvan Glorfindel had ever seen walked proudly, holding his hand. The face of he who had spoken looked old, but there was a light in his eyes that suggested so much more to him than simply maturity. 

‘I am Litchon. I, too, was at Dagorlad, and I remember our beloved king…’ He faltered, but a glance from the ellon at his side steadied him. ‘I could tell you so many tales… but the thing I remember most about our Oropher, was his pride. He dealt with outsiders with dignity and eloquence, and always for the benefit of his kingdom. I would have died for him, had it been necessary. Many of my friends did die for him… that I lived is another tale, but that I am here now, to speak, and say, yes, I remember our great king Oropher. I miss him, his brave voice like the cry of the forest, his wrath shaking the foundations of the earth as he rode to protect us, his cunning in counsel, his wisdom and how he loved his family…’

Litchon paused, pulled himself taller.

‘In years past, I remembered those who fell beside him, who fell later. All, now, are walking in the sweet, green forests once more. All but for our brave King Oropher whose fall broke our hearts but not our will…’

‘I remember Oropher, your good king,’ Glorfindel said, pulling himself to his feet with a glance at Ecthelion that spoke agonies of conflict. ‘I remember… I was at the debates, the councils, heard all the arguments. Knew he knew what we were going up against, but Gil… well, we’d fought different battles, I think the weight of opinion was that, forgive me, Oropher didn’t know what he was talking about… except, no, hush… the weight of opinion was stodgy with court advisors, and it’s fair to say that the forces put against us were different from those faced by the Silvans… he had this plan, it was brilliant, it was daring, it needed other parts of the army to make it work… Oropher knew that he was considered wild and unthinking – one of the reasons his army did so well was how fierce and unpredictable he was – and he knew the enemy, if they were expecting anything, would be that he’d hurl himself at them. He said that… if he did that, if he led the charge, then the other forces could come in to attack the flank of the enemy... it wasn’t half bad, as plans went, but of course, nobody but Amdir wanted to let Oropher have the glory of being in the forefront. So the plan was argued round with Gil wanting to head the charge, Elendil arguing that his Men would be more likely to apparently lose their heads than Gil, someone else saying that the whole thing was too risky, others thought it was brilliant, or would have been if someone else had thought of it…’

Glorfindel made an expansive gestured and took a gulp at his wine, raising the goblet first to the circlet on the throne.

‘But only your Oropher could pull off a stunt like that. Only he could command the loyalty of his captains and troops for them to trust him and, of course… trust Gil and Dil… messages went back and forth, nothing was settled, time was running short; in the finish, Oropher sent one last terse message; if we didn’t make our move soon, they’d trample us. All of us. Delay was playing into their hands, not ours. He was going to attack, and the armies of Elendil and Gil-Galad had better be there to back him up, or all would fail…’

He sighed.

‘I don’t think anyone really believed he’d do it. In truth, it was the best workable plan anyone had come up with, and if Gil had thought of it, he’d have been trying to persuade Oropher to go along with him… and, of course, Oropher would have thought it a trap, or at least an insult, and we’d have been no further on… I didn’t sleep much that night, kept my armour on, my sword to hand. Others in the camp, too, were uneasy… Erestor, I remember how worried you looked, round the camp fire that night. How you rubbed your hands together and kept checking your quiver was full…’

Erestor nodded.

‘I remember that night. I have wished I did not but… it is a part of me. History, perhaps the sort that is not written down, recorded, sung, but history, nonetheless.’

‘Knew when it started, heard the howls from the enemy, the shouts from the Silvans. Ordered my company to mount up before Gil had chance to do anything, didn’t care if I was demoted for it afterwards… we weren’t exactly on the spot, of course, and by the time we got there – about a score of us – the battle cries had turned into screams, ai, I am sorry, I am so sorry, but…’ he glanced down at Ecthelion. ‘Who else will tell them, Thel?’

Ecthelion nodded, reached up to squeeze Glorfindel’s hand for a moment.

‘So,’ Glorfindel continued, the timbre of his voice changing, becoming brisker as the warrior came forward in him, his old tone of command, report, making him clear and clipped. ‘The king had led the charge, his knights around him. They were fighting as if they were possessed, as if they weren’t afraid to lose everything… I don’t know how else to put it; they were wild and controlled and terrifying and for a time it looked like nothing could withstand them. King Amdir and his Lórien forces were there, too, not shy of the fight, but holding back, waiting until Gil’s forces arrived so as to be most effective while the enemy was distracted… Thranduil had another division under his command, and he was fighting circumspectly, if you can call those two swords of his circumspect… supporting his father where needed… but they were looking to us, suddenly, as the enemy numbers pressed forward, realising this wasn’t just a sortie… of course, there wasn’t an ‘us’ to speak of, only me and my score of warriors, though by now, Gil had realised something was up and Elendil at least was scrambling to respond…’

Another steadying gulp of wine. Glorfindel found his vision blurring, the clear faces intent on him around the campsite now fuzzy and unfocussed, as if there were tears in his eyes…

‘Magnificent. That’s all I can say, your king, he was magnificent. Untiring, he seemed, his eyes full of fire, his voice a howl of commands, terrifying the orcs and beasts, cutting them down and encouraging his warriors… there were Men fighting alongside him too, I remember being amazed, and then not… Well. Gil and Dil were too slow, Oropher was way out in front, cut off, Thranduil and Amdir trying desperately to get to him. We were nearest, I ordered a charge… cut our way through, but… you know, can’t help wishing I hadn’t, but then I’d have hated myself. It was…’

His wine cup was empty. His face was wet, must be raining…. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, didn’t like it… not like him, Glorfindel of Gondolin to dislike being the centre of attention, but…

‘I’ve heard the songs, you know. The ones where it says Oropher died a hero, exhorting his warriors on… a lucky – or unlucky – arrow taking him out of the battle. But… that’s wrong. And it’s horrible, dreadful, but… it’s doing your king a disservice if you believe the stories that say he died easily. He didn’t, oh, he… He fought every inch of the way, he was wounded, damaged, bleeding, he… when he couldn’t manage his sword any more, he used his knife, he head-butted them, he… ripped at them with his fingers, snarling, we fought our way through, he was no further away from me than Arveldir is but there must have been a dozen orcs between us, I saw him pulled down, I… kept telling myself it was the horse I could hear screaming, but… I am sorry, I am so sorry, but nobody’s told you this, have they? You thought it was clean and quick, but… but, oh, he fought for you, he fought so hard and if you can’t hear that tonight, when can you?’

He dropped his cup and stumbled blindly away from the tables. Ecthelion looked after him, longing to follow, knowing he couldn’t, not yet. He couldn’t leave them with the story so raw and bleeding.

‘I remember Oropher,’ he said gently into the silence. ‘Even I, for I met him in the Halls of Mandos. Lord Námo brought him to me. When I saw him, your king was healed of the wounds of his death, although he bore marks from that terrible battle. He spoke slowly, gravely, and the first thing he did was to convey an assurance that my beloved Glorfindel was well and strong. He was terribly distressed by the deaths of so many of his brave Silvans, I cannot begin to say how deeply he grieved… and I apologise if my husband’s words have brought sorrow to any of you. But it is too often the case that the songs tell only what the minstrels think we can bear to hear… or sometimes, the perspective is wrong. I do not think those who wrote the Song of the Fall of Oropher were in his army, or were amongst Glorfindel’s knights; I think they followed after. My lord Oromë, Lord Arveldir, Master Erestor, please excuse me for a time. I must seek my lord.’

*

Some small distance away there was the glow of a lantern picking up the golden gleam of Glorfindel’s hair and outlining the ellon who had spoken earlier; Litchon. At first surprised Fin had company, as he drew near, still, he was relieved his brave love wasn’t alone.

‘My lord?’

The voice was melodic, gentle, and Ecthelion found he was facing the beautiful elf who had been at Litchon’s side.

‘My lord, I am Duvainor. My friend Litchon… he was at Dagorlad. He saw. Perhaps a few of his friends, too, but not many survived. All is well.’

But Glorfindel had openly wept as he had spoken of Oropher’s death, his head was in his hands and his shoulders were shaking, how could all be well?

Litchon was speaking, seated close to Glorfindel but not physically intruding upon him.

‘…so few remember, and those of us who went to Mandos… undoubtedly, it is merciful to take away the more horrific memories, but without them, who are we? So I remember, it is as you said… but they do not want songs that tell how our silver king was ripped apart at the end, they want it to be clean and pure, as if sacrifice such as Oropher’s is not pure of itself… from those of us who spoke in Mandos with our king, I offer thanks.’

‘Captain Litchon?’ Ecthelion folded down onto the ground next to Fin, put an arm around his beloved’s shoulders. ‘I have heard my husband’s account before, of course, but never in such detail…’

‘I do not wonder. But the lord is right, we need to remember, and while, perhaps, when it was new the truth would have brought too much pain, now it can only make us love our Oropher the more. We will return to our friends now, Duvainor and I, and we will remember our King.’ Now Litchon reached out to lightly touch Glorfindel’s shoulder. ‘Lord of Gondolin, many here will offer you thanks for your words tonight. Let me be first; you honour our king and you honour us with the pain of your memories. May the observances bring you joy.’

Glorfindel sniffed and looked up for a moment. 

‘May your own Night of the Names be blessed, Litchon. But as for me? He gave the smallest of shrugs and a wavering smile. 'Somehow, I doubt it.’


	16. Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Night of the Names continues, and Thel takes Fin home...

Litchon’s lantern faded into the night; Ecthelion noticed he and his friend did not go back towards the lamps and fires of the Silvan commemorations, but headed off towards the trees. He sat, keeping his arm around his spouse, waiting for Fin to break the silence.

It didn’t take long.

‘If what he said’s right…’ Glorfindel began, a sigh woven into his voice. ‘Then they’re going to want to hear more of our stories, Thel… and it doesn’t seem right just to leave them thinking that’s the end.’

‘I did mention we caught up with him later…’

‘You did? That was good of you, Thel.’ A steadying breath, and Fin’s hand sneaked into Ecthelion’s grasp. ‘Still. Have a feeling it’s time for the Balrog Slayer to make an entrance, don’t you?’

‘The proud Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, Glorfindel of Gondolin, hero and legend.’ Ecthelion smiled and kissed Fin’s cheek gently. ‘I think that would be wonderful.’

‘Come on, then.’ Fin jumped up, pulled Thel with him, his manner now determined. ‘Let’s give them a bit of what they want.’

‘Only a bit, my golden love,’ Thel said, letting his voice be a drawl as he allowed Fin to lead him back towards the camp. ‘You are married, after all…’

Glorfindel laughed, pulled Thel close against his side, and by the time they stepped back into the pools of light, there was a swagger in his step and a gleam in his eye and Arveldir rose from his place to formally greet him.

‘Lord Glorfindel. On behalf of all of us who had different memories from the stories usually told, may I offer thanks…?’

Glorfindel waved an expansive hand.

‘Of course, that wasn’t the last time I saw your king…’

‘Indeed? Perhaps you would share more of your memories with us…?’

Arveldir gestured towards Glorfindel’s previous seat, summoned forward the elf taking the wine round, and goblets were filled, Ecthelion took his place at Fin’s side, silent, steadfast support, and Glorfindel grinned, golden in the lamplight.

‘Thel knew him for longer in the Halls, of course… but yes, I have a tale or two to tell…’ 

And tell them he did, weaving in stories of Oropher’s gradual initial grief for his Silvans to accounts of time spent talking and their king’s sharp wit, often at Fin’s expense. Every now and then he would be interrupted by a Silvan coming to bow to him, to present a goblet of wine, or a plate of sweet cakes, and he would look into their faces and smile, thanking them. At one point, Araspen came up, greatly daring, to place a kiss on Glorfindel’s cheek. He laughed.

‘Steady on, there, my lady! I am married, you know!’

‘So am I,’ she said, smiling back. ‘But thank you for the gift of our king. We had lost him, I think.’

‘Well, after tonight, perhaps you can get him back for good.’

‘That would be nice.’

‘He’ll probably drop in for a drink, if I know Oropher,’ Fin said. ‘Remember, Thel? He didn’t want us to go, did he?’

‘Not really… I think while we three were in Lord Námo’s library, we were harder to evict… one fëa alone… and yes, I do seem to remember you inviting him for a drink when he finally left the Halls, but I hardly think a royal Sinda such as he will come slumming it with us, darling…!’

‘Maybe not. Good thing too, really, best behaviour, clothes on all the time… Araspen, pet, I don’t suppose you have any stories of Oropher, you’re far too young, you and your Merlinith…’ Fin waved his goblet around the group at large. ‘Well? Lord Arveldir, mellon-nin, you knew the king in his court, did you not?’

Arveldir looked up from his place at Erestor’s side.

‘Indeed I did, my lord. I started as a junior underscribe in the King’s Office, and his majesty spotted me and decided his son needed a personal advisor of his own, and that I should learn those duties along with my usual tasks. Thus I was introduced to Thranduil, then the prince, when he was close to my own age. However, I was not allowed to go to war, but instead had to help run the King’s Office against the king’s return. Little did any of us think we would be welcoming a different king home…. So often over the years, though, I have seen our first king in his son. For wild and fierce in battle as Oropher was, he was also compassionate, in his way…’

Arveldir stumbled and broke off, trying to hide his sudden discomposure. Glorfindel took back the narrative.

‘Not if you sat in his favoured spot in Lord Námo’s library he wasn’t!’ he said, laughingly. ‘I remember one time – and Thel will back me up on this, won’t you, Thel…? He practically blew me from the place with his voice alone. ‘Up, you villain!’ he called out, and proceeded to use language that Lord Námo himself said he’d not heard before…’

Ecthelion noticed Erestor sitting with a prim smile on his face. Catching Ecthelion’s eye, he rose from his place and wandered to a side table, pretending to refill goblets until Thel joined him.

‘Even this brings back memories,’ he began. ‘This mood I oft saw on your husband in Imladris, Ecthelion, especially when Elrond had been more than usually demanding of Glorfindel’s warrior skills. Or when newcomers asked in hushed tones was that really Lord Glorfindel of the old tales…? He bears it well.’

‘Ah, there are those who say my husband loves to be the centre of attention… but I have come to think, perhaps not all the time.’

‘Indeed. I understand Arveldir intends to suggest we break into smaller groups for private observances at some point shortly... your departure will be less noticeable then, I think.’

‘A thoughtful idea, Erestor. My thanks. Tell me, do you know…? I found Glorfindel speaking with an ellon who had been with Oropher at Dagorlad, and I wondered are there any others here tonight? Not survivors of the battle, but re-embodied Silvans from then?’

Erestor shook his head.

‘There are many such elves, of course, and I have met some on occasion... But they tend to dwell in the heart of Lord Oromë’s forests… I think they do not much like to mix with younger Silvans. They need their first king, I think.’

‘I hope, then, that the Elvenking’s mission meets with success. I am sure Lord Námo will be more than happy for Oropher to leave his demesne…’

‘Let us hope so. Although how Thranduil and Oropher will decide between them who will rule… still. That is hardly my problem. May I take this opportunity to say, Lord Ecthelion, that our king – the Elvenking, Thranduil – will be most grateful for the support you have given and the generosity with which you have shared your time with us… not to mention, sharing your home with some of the new arrivals’ belongings…’

‘Oh, it is nothing… although I could wish there were a music machine within my comprehension which I might play with…’

Erestor smiled.

‘Yes, the music of the modern ages is a thing of wonder indeed.’

‘May I interrupt a moment?’ The ellon with the lovely shoes stood with a tentative smile a little distance away. ‘Lord Ecthelion?’

‘Commander Canadion, is it not?’ Ecthelion bowed. ‘How may I help you?’

‘It is just that…I wondered… I thought perhaps I saw you and Lord Glorfindel talking to people I know, but have not had time to catch up with yet… across the field, earlier… One was perhaps called Duvainor…? And his friend, Litchon…?’

‘In fact yes,’ Ecthelion replied, ‘Captain Litchon spoke of the importance of memories such as Glorfindel’s…’

‘It is true, it is very true… hard to hear, but… it has made our king more real, again. I was wondering, are they still here? Did they say anything?’

‘In fact, they left, heading towards the woods.’

‘Oh. I had hoped… I used to be in the same company as Duvainor, you see and…’

‘They seemed to wish to leave,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Perhaps they had their own observances to attend. But I am sure you will have plenty of time for reunions in the days ahead.’

‘Yes indeed, and… at least that is one name I do not need to remember tonight.’ Canadion tried to smile brightly. ‘My husband will be pleased, I think. Well. Thank you, my lord. I think I had better return to my Thiriston now.’

Erestor shrugged as Thel asked the question of him.

‘I think it was before he knew Thiriston. Perhaps best not to enquire too closely.’

‘That is the thing, when one lives forever… one has so much time in which to develop a past.’

Erestor surprised them both by laughing.

‘Yes, indeed! That is, I did not, not until I met Arveldir, but since then… I am glad to have so much future ahead of me. Shall we go back?’

They returned to find the intended separation into smaller groups was already underway. Glorfindel surrounded by a little cluster of acolytes, Silvans he had known during his various visits to the Greenwood and was listening to interest to what one them was saying.

‘Being a weapon-smith, of course I was there for each development, every new invention in the arms race… after they invented flintlocks, though, I diverted away to armour, more, it felt… and the modern pieces…’ he broke off to shudder. ‘And yet I can see the appeal, to a point. They are beautiful examples of design, they do what they were intended to with astonishing efficiency… I can understand why the Noldor would be entranced… and yet…’

‘Yes, Duinor?’ the powerful voice of Lord Oromë drifted over, and the Silvan shook his head.

‘And yet humans, they are so short-lived, and yet will insist on making their lives shorter! For all the elegance of some of the weapons, they make me feel… violated, perhaps, lovely as they outwardly are. Yet was not the dark lord once beautiful, or so it is said?’

‘Very true,’ Oromë said, his demeanour grave, but with his eyes dancing. ‘However, we will leave him, and the armaments of the modern world to one side, I think. You know, it strikes me that none of you have asked yet, do I have any memories of your King Oropher…’

A little rush of excitement amongst the Silvans, then, and Commander Canadion lifted a goblet to the Lord of the Hunt.

‘Well, then, great Lord Oromë, if you please… would you share with your Silvans the tales you know of our first lord, our brave King Oropher…?’

‘I will indeed… come, draw near…’

In the flurry of movement as the Silvans moved to sit near the Vala, it was easy for Ecthelion to reach for Glorfindel’s hand, for Fin to rise and smile.

But the smile wavered as soon as Glorfindel knew nobody was looking.

‘Take me home, Thel?’ he asked, his voice tremulous, urgent, his hand grasping for support. ‘I think the Hero of Gondolin’s had enough… I… need to remember who I really am, now. Make me real, love, take me home, make me real again.’

Ecthelion linked his arm through Glorfindel’s in affectionate silence, knowing from previous occasions when Fin had needed to play the Balrog Slayer, the Hero of Gondolin, just what he needed now.

He led the way to the beach, walked Fin along the shore while the tide hushed and shushed across the broad sweep of low tide strands. A polished moon hung big in the sky, turning the sands to silver, glittering the jewels strewn there, dimming the diamond stars in the heavens. Glorfindel sighed, and slowed his steps, leaning on Ecthelion who stopped and put his arms around his golden, glorious hero. Fin buried his head in Ecthelion’s hair, hiding there while Thel stroked his back and shoulders and cuddled him close, snuggled in.

‘I am so proud of you, there is no end to how proud I am of you,’ he said softly. ‘My golden one, my sunlight, giving so much of yourself for these Silvans, for their king…’

‘It was just for tonight, wasn’t it, Thel? Only tonight, they won’t ask it of me again?’

‘I am sure they will not. In fact, my love, if they had known what memories you had, I think they might have shied away from them. But you were right, dearest, the truth needed to be told, however hard. And you, so brave to tell them.’

He lifted Glorfindel’s hair and pressed his full lips to his cheek, the place where his ear and neck joined, cradled his head and kissed him on the lips, his eyes closing.

‘Mmm… I love you, my light. Do you want to walk on the beach for a time? Or is home calling?’

‘Home, love. I need you.’

‘Then, dear one, we shall go home. For I need you, too.’

 

The villa was dark, silent, the staff having long gone home for the night. A lamp burned on the ledge near the door so they could light their way in. Not that their eyes needed light, but Glorfindel sometimes liked a lantern to hold up against the dark.

Fin picked up the light and pushed open the door. By the time Thel had closed it after them, his husband was standing at the top of the staircase, looking lost, empty somehow, the lantern still held loose in his hand. Thel took it from him, set it down on a table, and pushed open the door to the end bedroom, returning to take Fin by the hand and gently guide him in. An expansive bed took up half the room, two walls had large windows and the third, opposite the bed, had doors led onto a balcony, looking out to sea. Ecthelion opened these doors, and let the song of the sea breeze in.

Glorfindel looked around him, blinking.

‘This isn’t our room, Thel.’

‘Of course it is, beloved!’ Ecthelion allowed a laugh to colour his voice. ‘These are all our rooms, except the kitchen, or so Cook would say…’

‘But you like the other room best…’

‘And you like this one. Too often, sweet golden flower, you permit me the stars from the skylight in that room. I thought it was fair you should hear the seasong, for a change. Now, let me help you.’

‘I love this room, Thel. It’s got a nice view, and… it’s got you in it.’

‘Well, I love it too, for the same reasons… except you are the best thing here to look at, far superior to the view.’

Ecthelion guided fin to the bed, helped him sit, pulled off his boots, ran his hands through the golden hair.

‘Barefoot and unbound, just how I like you.’ 

He unfastened Fin’s shirt and pulled it out of the waist of his jeans, pushed it off his shoulders to expose the strong, unblemished torso. Kneeling, he put his arms round Fin’s waist as his husband leaned forward to caress his hair, to kiss his forehead.

‘Thel, I need you…’

‘Lie back, then.’

Ecthelion rose to shed his own garments as swiftly as he could, straddled Fin, kissed from his throat to his navel, hair brushing his husband’s nipples, stroking his ribs. Presently he moved to lie beside Fin, his hand drifting down.

‘And you have a zip, how delightful, I do believe… yes, it goes down… all the way, and in here… ah, Glorfindel, you are magnificent…’

The jeans came off, Fin reached for him, their bodies twining together warm and bare, kissing as if they were starved and each other the only sustenance. Thel’s hands stroked and lingered, traced and held, and Fin whimpered and moaned and gasped.

‘Oh, oh, Thel… bring me back, Thel. Make me yours, make me real…’

The scent of fragrant oil blossomed in the room as Ecthelion anointed his fingers, slicked himself, stroked and touched and explored until Fin was crying out for every push, and then he lifted him, slid inside his secret centre, velvet and heat and pulling close. He leaned in to Glorfindel, eyes locked on his.

‘You are Glorfindel, my golden flower, my beloved husband. I am yours, and you are mine, and I love you. This body has known only you, your body has known only me…’

He pushed slowly in, pulled out, setting a slow pace that would last.

‘Only you… only me…’ he said, rolling his hips forward. ‘You and I, Glorfindel. You and I.’

‘More, Thel. More.’

Ecthelion pushed harder, rocked his hips, allowed Glorfindel to reach for him, grab and kiss him.

‘Mine, Thel,’ he gasped into Ecthelion’s mouth. ‘Mine, yours… yes. Only you, Thel, only me…’

‘What more is there, beloved? What need for more?’

Thel reached down with oiled fingers to encompass Glorfindel’s erection, and his beloved cried out, bucked and shuddered, his body clamping tight and hot around Thel, and he closed his eyes and rocked back, giving himself up to pleasure as intense as his lover’s, reaching his own climax even as Fin exploded over his hand.

Easing out of Glorfindel’s body, Thel stretched out beside him, waited to see if Fin would roll away from him or towards, and was delighted when Fin’s arm reached for him, pulling in, and Thel gathered his golden hero into his arms, cradling his head on his shoulder so he could stroke the glorious sunlight of his hair.

The silence rested easy between them, like a sated cat in the sun, but presently Fin lifted his head and Thel could see the tears in his eyes.

‘Thank you, my shining star. Thank you for bringing me home.’

‘Beloved, home is where you are.’

‘I love this room, you know.’

‘Yes. We should sleep here more often.’

‘Well, we could… but the bathing pool’s right the other side of the house. And downstairs.’

Ecthelion drifted his fingers down Glorfindel’s spine.

‘Do you want to bathe? Now?’ he asked, his voice resonant with humour.

‘I really want you to make love to me again,’ Glorfindel said. ‘But I suppose I’ll have to wait…’

‘Do you think?’ Thel asked, laughing, rolling over so that Fin was beneath him, kissing him and bumping his hips against Fin’s groin. ‘I am ready whenever you are, beloved…’

‘Oh, so you are… well, that will save a bit of time…’

Thel growled lightly and caught Fin’s lower lip between his teeth, tonguing the soft flesh until Glorfindel moaned and thrust with his own tongue into Thel’s mouth to kiss him with deep longing and their bodies tangled and tumbled and joined again in love and longing, and after, they lay together in a sticky, interwoven pile of limbs and hair, sated and easy with each other, Glorfindel cuddling and Ecthelion snuggling in, not quite sure where Fin ended and Thel began, content to jumble together into reverie for what was left of the night.


	17. An Expression of Gratitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Glorfindel and Ecthelion receive a gift...

Ecthelion woke to find himself sole occupant of the bed and the bright light of morning gilding the room. Lifting his head and pushing up against the headboard, the first thing he saw was Glorfindel, beautifully naked, standing on the balcony, hands braced on the railings and looking out to sea, hair burnished bright in the sunlight. The early breeze lifted his hair in disparate strands, as if the air was toying with the golden tresses, and Ecthelion’s heart kicked in his chest. It would seem last night’s mood had passed, Fin was back together again.

Thel smiled as he slid from the bed to join his beloved, allowing a hand to rest on his waist for a moment before succumbing to temptation and cupping around the perfect, firm globe of Fin’s buttock.

‘Morning, Thel.’ Glorfindel turned to smile, a deep, old smile just for him which said all was well in Fin’s fëa, he was home, grounded, recovered from the stress of memories. ‘I worried I might wake you, you know. In the night.’

Thel nodded. At times, especially after recounting one or other of the horrors he’d witnessed, Fin would wake shouting from nightmares and then Ecthelion would hold him until he calmed. But not last night, and that was a blessing.

‘I dreamed, of course. Not Gondolin, not even Dagorlad. The last dragon. Funny, that.’

‘Well, perhaps not so much. It’s the most recent, for you, after all, and Triwathon being newly returned…’

‘Yes, that might be it.’ Fin fell into a thoughtful silence. ‘I hope… I hope someone else tells him, what I told them last night. I’m not doing it. Not going through that again.’

‘Darling sunbeam, no-one would expect you to…’

‘I’ve been thinking, Thel. About this room. We used to sleep here a lot.’

‘You liked to be able to watch for ships.’

‘Yes. And then I found it was more, that I needed to watch for them, and if I was in here, as soon as I woke, I’d be at this rail, looking out, even if you were still sleeping. And I thought… no. Can’t do it, not fair. To leave your side and come to look for a ship that might bring Triwathon… It felt… disloyal…’

Ecthelion made himself laugh, deep and rich, and he patted the buttock on which his hand still rested.

‘Darling Fin, that is so sweet of you!’ He wanted to say, it wouldn’t have mattered, would not have seemed so to him, but… he wondered, would he really have not minded? Even though he knew it had been over, might it have made him wonder, and hate himself for wondering…? Sometimes Glorfindel’s subconscious wisdom left him stunned at its depth and breadth. ‘Adorable, in fact. Well, you do not need to worry now. He’s here, and any future ships won’t have the same weight of expectation aboard.’

‘That’s true. There can’t be many left now, can there?’

‘I would not have thought so; I understand the Elvenking was most scrupulous in gathering as many elves as he could. Now. The bathing pool calls, I think… and then we need to think what we will do with the day…?’

‘Oh, that’s easy,’ Fin said. ‘Breakfast in the garden, a stroll along the beach followed by a swim. Back here for lunch, then you can carry on with your drawing and I can sit with my goats for a bit, or you might play for us if you like…’

‘Play for you and your goats? Darling sunbeam, they are hardly appreciative!’

‘No. But I am, I’m appreciative…’

Fin turned suddenly to frame Ecthelion’s face with his hands.

‘Thel, you’re amazing. So kind, so understanding, so… just beautiful. Do I thank you enough? I’m sure I don’t. Or tell you how much I love you…’

‘I know, beloved buttercup, I know. Well, it truly sounds like a plan for the perfect day. So perfect, in fact, I am in haste to begin.’

 

A perfect plan it may well have been, but as sometimes happened with the best-laid plans, they were subject to abrupt change.

They had got as far as breakfast in the garden, Glorfindel dressed only in the short leggings he favoured for beach walks and swimming, Ecthelion in his black jeans and a short-sleeved midnight tunic that made Fin stare at the way it made his hair shine and gleam, when the day took an unplanned turn.

About to call for more drinks – Glorfindel had sheepishly admitted a need for restorative cordial, the only indication of his over-indulgence in wine the day before – Thel saw the housekeeper already on her way over.

‘Mistress Lalbes, perfect timing… we will have some of that excellent blackcurrant drink, please…’

‘Of course, my lords. And there are visitors to see you, led by a Person.’

Something in her tone, the little sniff she gave at the end, implied whomever it was to be terribly beneath their notice.

‘Indeed, a Person?’ Ecthelion asked. ‘How fascinating! And what manner of Person might it be, may I ask?’

‘It is a Silvan, my lords. In female garb.’

‘Oh… Mistress Merlinith, perhaps?’ Thel caught Glorfindel’s eye, saw a hint of a wink. ‘Or Araspen… I don’t think we know any other ellith…’

‘It is not an elleth,’ the housekeeper replied, her voice stiff with disapproval.

‘Oh, it’ll be Canadion!’ Fin exclaimed. ‘Is there an ellon with him, big fellow, looks a lot like a cave troll after a battle…?’

‘I am fortunate, my lords, that I do not know what a cave troll might look like. However, there is a small giant accompanying the Person, and they have brought two artisans with them…’

‘This is getting more interesting by the minute!’ Fin said. ‘I’ll come and say hello, I think.’

‘Four more places, then, copious quantities of everything, and especially blackcurrant cordial, if you would,’ Ecthelion said. ‘And show your Person through.’

Canadion was wearing a skirt in what looked like the same fabric as that from which jeans were made, black boots with zips, and a pink shirt. He was unaccompanied, and smiled in his friendly way.

‘Good morning, Lord Ecthelion, I think I have just startled your good housekeeper… Thiriston and the Adars are setting something up in the house, in the room where you let us put our things… it is a thing for you, though, and Glorfindel is helping. Well, that is what he says he is doing…’

‘The Adars…?’ Ecthelion queried, resisting the urge to pull out a chair for the ellon and contenting himself with a gesture instead.

‘My father Merenor and Honour-Ada Hanben,’ Canadion explained, taking the chair indicated. ‘By way of a thank you for your contributions to our Night of the Names. And Arveldir said, since Oromë intends staying with us for a while, you don’t need to worry about keeping us safe from the elders…’

‘Indeed, any concerns I may have had quite evaporated when the redoubtable Mistress Merlinith spoke out… but I thank you.’ Ecthelion smiled. ‘We are here, you see, should there be any need.’

‘Although we’re going for a walk soon,’ Fin said, coming up with Thiriston. ‘I told Cook, four extras, and she swore at me… Lalbes’ ‘artisans’ are actually our friends Merenor and Hanben, you know, honestly, I think she’s got some far-fetched idea that we’re important, or something…’

‘My lords,’ Thiriston nodded, took the chair next to Canadion’s. ‘They won’t be long, everyone had suggestions for playlists and there’s a bit of copying to do, but…’

‘I understand,’ Ecthelion said, ‘That is to say, every word is perfectly clear to me, but the context, alas, eludes me…’

A gruff laugh.

‘Yes, of course, sorry… everyone wanted to give you a gift, for what you gave us last night, you and Glorfindel. We thought, you’ve got everything you need… wine is good, but not personal…’

‘Well, quite fond of an impersonal glass or two myself,’ Fin interrupted with a grin.

‘True. But this is something from everyone.’

‘Then whatever it may prove to be, we are most grateful. Have you any word, yet?’

‘No. Lord Oromë said even his Maia’s steeds take a bit of time to get from the Halls to here. Could be tomorrow before we know.’

A little parade from the house, Merenor and Hanben with their arms full of strange things arranged on a tray, a servant with extra chairs, the housekeeper with a laden tray and her nose in the air. Thel sighed.

‘I can see a small rebellion from the staff on the way… Ah. Mistress Lalbes, thank you, most efficient.’

‘I just hope it is enough, my lord, we were not expecting to feed Hordes this morning…’

‘No? But the villa has a reputation for hospitality… We can increase the household expenses, if it helps…’

‘Mistress Lalbes, is it?’ Merenor set down his load and turned a powerful smile on her. ‘This is most kind of you and your kitchens, we were at sea for far too long, and before then… well, the food of the round world pales to insignificance compared to the wonderful aromas from the dishes you bear… we should have sent ahead but then, this is a surprise gift, and then where would the surprise be? And so good of your lords to ask us to join them, it is treating us like real friends.’ He blinked beautiful, gold-enhanced eyes at her. ‘I do so like making friends, do not you?’

Lalbes opened her mouth to speak, but could only mime, lost in the depths of Merenor’s gilded irises. Recovering, she dropped a small curtsey.

‘I am sure if I had known, Master…’ Abruptly, she turned to Ecthelion. ‘Will there be anything more, my lords?’

‘Just arrange a portable meal in place of the day meal for us, please, Lalbes, for mid-morning… and thank the kitchen staff for us.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

Once she was out of earshot, Master Hanben began to scold.

‘Merenor! I have told you before not to bewitch hapless ellith with your eyes; it is unfair and, besides, you are married…’

‘Ai, forgive me, love… but she seemed a little out of sorts…’

‘She is more so now, I do not doubt…’

‘And she has a husband of her own,’ Glorfindel said, pouring blackcurrant cordial into the glasses, grinning as he did so. ‘Now, please – eat with us. And then you can show us what all these shiny things are.’

*

Music.

The shiny things – an assortment of metal and glass shapes connected together – were a way of playing music without the need for cylinder or record.

‘It is very clever,’ Hanben said. ‘The humans, they found things to make their lives easier, to save them energy, but the things they made needed energy of their own… over the years, the more ways of making energy they found, the more things they invented to use it on. I rather fear, if they lose the way of making these new power sources, they will lose much of their way of life, but that is not my problem. Instead, how to keep these inventions working here, where there are no such things… yet there is the sun, and its power feeds this panel, which stores its heat and releases it into the device, which in turn uses it for the music… and when not in use, you can store its energy in this block, and then connect that to the music player; we have written out instructions and diagrams, for not even my honour-son Baudh can work it for himself…’

‘Baudh… of course, I was forgetting!’ Glorfindel said. ‘Thel, Baudh who put in our bathing pool and other plumbing – he’s Merenor’s son…’

‘He was at the observances last night,’ Canadion said. ‘We had quite a family reunion, after you had left…’

‘I understand you are a close family; such reunions are always joyous.’

‘Indeed so, Lord Glorfindel. Well, you will know for yourself with Triwathon arriving…’ Canadion shut up and gulped, as if he had only just realised the import of the words as he’d said them. ‘…and his husband Parvon; I remember we all knew each other, back in the day… old friends…’

‘We are ready here, I think,’ Hanben announced, although the assembled equipment didn’t look ready. ‘Would you care to do the honours, Lord Glorfindel? I have selected the first track – song – deliberately; it may not resemble the music you knew of old, but you may like it…’

Strange, ethereal sounds. Four notes, repeated and a drum added, more sounds, almost like someone sobbing, another level, deeper notes, a key change…

Glorfindel and Ecthelion stared at each other, Canadion’s little slip forgotten… high, swooping sounds, not anything Ecthelion could imagine playing on any instrument he knew… it wept and cried, dancing across several notes in smooth succession…

Softer, a second theme, perhaps an oboe… perhaps not, it sounded more… brassy… Ecthelion shook his head, drew nearer, stared at the small devices as the sounds continued to mingle and diverge…

Then just the drum, occasional interspersions, the weeping voice of the unknown instrument almost talking over the rest…

A human voice joining in, across and opposed, between and around swung the instrument he couldn’t identify…

The words stopped. A sorrowing sequence, the possible-oboe again, and Thel found tears running down his face, Glorfindel in little better state. Hanben pressed a button on the device and waited.

‘It is… I thought I had been moved by music before and yet I do not know a word of what was sung…’

‘Ah.’ Hanben nodded. ‘That is what non-elves say about Sindarin songs, at times. But there is a translation of the lyrics, of all of them… and information about the songs chosen for the playlists, and… but you might prefer your own interpretation…’

‘It makes me think of you, beloved sunlight,’ Thel said, turning to Glorfindel and shaking his head slowly. ‘I do not know why…’

‘Erestor wanted it added,’ Thiriston said. ‘That’s what he said, only not with endearments, of when you were in Rivendell, Glorfindel, and Elrond being…’

‘Being Elrond.’ Fin nodded. ‘What else is there?’

‘Mostly what had become known as classical music,’ Merenor said. ‘Some formal jazz, but with a few songs added in. Something you commented on, Lord Ecthelion, a song about sunlight, that’s here. And the New World symphony we played for you…’

‘There is, as we say, a list,’ Hanben said. ‘Permit me to show you the workings…’

By the time Canadion and his family left an hour later, the breakfast dishes were empty and Fin and Thel thought they had a basic understanding of the devices. At Ecthelion’s suggestion, the equipment was moved to Fin’s favourite room, his reasoning being that the device could drink in sunlight on the balcony.

‘And our very deep gratitude,’ he said, seeing them off. ‘Please thank everyone who has contributed or made suggestions; we are honoured by this gift.’

Once they’d gone, he turned to Fin, smiling.

‘There was discussion of a walk, I think. A swim, lunch on the beach somewhere…?’

‘Can we still do that?’ Glorfindel asked. ‘If, you know, you wanted the music…?’

‘I think Mistress Lalbes will combust if, having requested a picnic, we then did not require it, don’t you?’ Ecthelion countered. ‘I will seek towels; you can collect the day meal, and we will head for that little cove you like.’

Walking, watching Fin pretend to be a fish, laughing together and just being alone with the golden day was bliss for Ecthelion, to see his shining one happy and light again… his moods could change so swiftly, sudden storms covering the sun only to blow away again next day… sometimes Thel wished for settled weather for Glorfindel’s fëa, that Fin could find stability, for his own sake.

Glorfindel returned from the tide, droplets of sea water beading his skin like diamonds, and Ecthelion wrapped him in a towel, and his arms, and kissed the salt water from his face.

‘It’s bracing today, Thel, ooh, give me a cuddle! I’m ready to eat now, what do you say? Or… shall I dry off properly first? Perhaps I need a proper full-body snuggle first, hugging with hips, what do you say…?’

And, of course, Thel said it was a splendid idea, and why had he not thought of that, and well, then…

 

Exploration of the Silvans’ gift took up much of the evening after dinner, and they listened in awe to a mixture of music and song that they had never imagined possible, sometimes listening to the same piece several times in order to properly understand it.

They had been enjoying something called the Moonlight Sonata when there was a knock at the door. 

‘Leave it, Thel,’ Glorfindel suggested, the servants having all gone home after dinner. ‘I’m too mellow for company…’

‘But I know that knock, beloved and should we not respond, he is likely to invite himself in… you know no doors can hold him…’

‘Our old friend Námo...’ Glorfindel lifted his voice. ‘You let him in, then, I’ll hide the wine…’

‘I heard that!’ Lord Námo called from beneath the balcony. ‘In spite of the strange sounds issuing from your rooms… whatever have you found now!’

‘Of course you did, my lord!’ Glorfindel went out to lean over the railing and grin down. ‘You were meant to! This is Thel’s music-thing, isn’t it wonderful?’

‘It fills me with wonder indeed,’ Námo said when Thel showed him in. He prowled around the music device for a few moments before casting himself down on the sofa under the window. ‘And whence came this wonder?’

‘From the round world,’ Ecthelion said carefully, passing their mighty guest a glass of their finest wine. ‘I understand elves had some hand in creating the earlier devices for storing and playing music – it is rather remarkable, and this was a gratitude-gift from the newly-landed Silvans…’

‘Indeed? And how did you earn their gratitude, may I ask? It’s not an easy feat…’

‘Ah. My beloved Glorfindel shared his true memories of King Oropher’s last moments…’

‘I see.’ Námo sipped. ‘Then I would say, you earned it; that was bravely done.’

Glorfindel shrugged, uncomfortable with such praise.

‘May one enquire, Lord…?’ Thel began.

‘What? Why am I here? Because I am lonely in my Halls, thanks to the massed memories of a horde of Silvans… and the stories told by you two villains, I might add. Yes, Oropher has moved on into his next life, and I am left just with the unrepentant dregs of Elvenkind languishing in their own, personal pits of despair… I do believe I will miss the old reprobate!’

‘Then of course we are delighted to bear you company while you adjust to your solitude, my lord,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Have the Silvans learned this joyous news of their first king?’

‘Not yet.’ Námo stretched out long legs and the air around him sparkled as it bounced of his Vala nature. ‘Other than those who were at the gates to witness him emerge… And you are not to go gossiping it over with your friends, Glorfindel! They will learn from messengers in the fullness of time. Besides which, poor fellow seemed a little bewildered by it all… I understand his wife wants him to spend a little time with the Healers to help him adjust.’

Ecthelion nodded.

‘It can be difficult,’ he said. ‘Had I not had Glorfindel to guide me… I do believe it took me a decade before I realised I could properly interact with my environment again.’

‘Although you soon worked out how to interact with me,’ Fin said, grinning. ‘Even so, yes, it’s strange to begin with. My first re-embodiment took a bit of getting used to. He’ll be fine.’

‘I heard the observances, of course; they were quite, quite moving… how much love these Silvans have for their old warrior-king…! And his son was delighted to see him; “Welcome to Valinor”, he said… the cheek of it, him two days landed…! Still… I am sure they will sort out the matter of the succession without any kinslayings… but then again, I suppose it would bring me some company…’ Námo glanced around. ‘We seem to be sitting in a bedroom, is there a reason for that, perchance?’

‘You expressed interest in the music, my lord, and the machine being here…’

‘Well, perhaps your sitting room would be a better location for another glass or two of this rather nice red… and I am intrigued by these new arrivals, you can tell me all about them, they do seem terribly modern…’

Decamping to the sitting room, an hour passed in comfortable conversation; having spent so long as Namo’s guests, it was easy to forget he was the Doomsman of the Valar, the Lord of Mandos, and simply consider him a respected friend. Even so, Ecthelion took pains to present the newly arrived Silvans as truly valuing tradition, for all they had been living in a very different world from the one he and Glorfindel had known.

‘Their clothing is different, and they have brought new ideas and new things with them, it is true,’ he said. ‘But really, what they most want is trees around them, and their king back.’

‘Let us hope that once they do, they are not disappointed,’ Námo said. ‘After all, if there was ever a traditionalist, it is Oropher.’

As he prepared to leave, Lord Námo tapped Glorfindel on the chest.

‘Remember,’ he said. ‘Not a word to the Silvans!’

‘Not a word,’ Glorfindel agreed. ‘Anyway, I think they’d rather wait, and hear about it from someone who was actually there than as second-hand gossip from me. I’ll even pretend to be surprised, when the news comes.’


	18. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion and Glorfindel receive more unexpected guests...

Lord Námo’s admonishment was all the excuse Fin and Thel needed to stay close to home and give the Silvans chance to hear news of their first king for themselves. It wasn’t a hardship; if anything, it was good to turn away from the excitement of the new arrivals and just spend time together. Of course, there was the new music to explore, a surprising quantity and variety of it on the small metallic devices. 

It seemed to have been arranged roughly by type, and they had moved through the classical orchestration of Beethoven and Tchaikovsky (‘Odd names they had, these humans,’ Fin said) to the lighter tunes of Gershwin and Copeland, and finally, as if by some miracle, the music changed completely. Different instruments, voices, style – the focus suddenly on the performer rather than the composer, with words to translate, retranslate, and join in with, even if the meaning was obscure. One particular performer caught their attention with strange chants and drum beats in the background, almost like feral Silvan war cries, Glorfindel pointed out, and Ecthelion had laughed, and said he was glad he hadn’t had to go into battle against them, then… but the tunes were strong and fun, and Fin sang about Prince Charming, and took to calling Thel his Dandy Highwayman until Thel shook with laughter and caught him in his arms, telling him that in that case, he’d better stand and deliver, or else…

On the second day after Lord Námo’s visit, Thel accompanied Glorfindel down for his morning swim as usual, sitting on the towels as his beloved cavorted in the tide. A pile of discarded shoes and clothing rested at his side, and the morning was wearing on.

Not just the morning; it was starting to be time, and more than time, he thought, that the Silvan camp had word of Oropher, and he wondered whether the apparent delay was simply to cover a stay with the Healers, as Námo had suggested might be needed.

There had been no contact whatsoever from the Silvans, in fact, which suggested all was well and that they had no need of such help as Fin and Thel might offer, so that Ecthelion had no qualms about keeping away. He was starting to grow curious, of course, but not so much so that he could not wait.

A flash of skin as Glorfindel breached the waves, ducked under to come up laughing and shaking his hair; he only did it, Thel was sure, for extra attention in the bathing pool to make sure the golden tresses were free of salt. As an extra incentive (as if one were needed), Fin was bathing without the skimpy benefit of his swimwear today, and it was all Thel could do to sit on the beach and not wade in to disport improperly in Lord Ulmo’s waters…

Fin surfaced again, stood in thigh-deep waters to grin and flex his muscles.

‘Coming in, Thel?’

‘Not today, my sumptuous sunbeam; the view is altogether too enticing…!’

‘Ah, you’ve got such a way with…’ 

Fin broke off abruptly and dropped down into the waves, submerging himself to the chin. His blue eyes were startled and he seemed to be… to be blushing…

‘Glorfindel, beloved goldenrod…?’

‘Company… oh, Thel… bring me a towel, would you? All the towels, maybe…?’

A hail from the crest of the dunes behind, and as Ecthelion rose, he saw two elves, one waving. All became clear as he recognised the one with lifted hand as Triwathon. With him, of course, was Parvon.

‘Well met, mellyn-nin. If you care to go to the villa, I am sure Mistress Lalbes will afford you a welcome.’ Ecthelion called. ‘We will follow.’

‘Ah.’ Triwathon, shaded his eyes, and descended the dunes towards the beach, Parvon a reluctant follower. ‘Thank you, but we’ve already taken the liberty… your pardon, is that… Glorfindel…?’

It was hardly surprising Triwathon had to ask. Fin had retreated to deeper water so that his lower torso was well below the water line when he stood, but his golden tresses were plastered to his head and shoulders like wet straw. Ecthelion hid his amusement; not like his darling sunbeam to be shy; modesty was not really necessary for elves, and besides, Triwathon had seen it all before… it wasn’t entirely a pleasing thought, but then Thel realised with a pang of sudden realisation; actually, he hadn’t; not this body, this incarnation, and while face and form were the same, Glorfindel no longer bore the scars of his fëa on his flesh.

‘Excuse me a moment,’ Ecthelion said gravely, shaking loose sand from the towels on which he’d been sitting. ‘My husband is prone to sunburn, after bathing in the sea; I must assist.’

He waded into the water, not caring about his jeans, until he was able to shield Fin from the shore with his body and a wide-spread towel which Glorfindel almost snatched from his hands, not caring that it got soaked as he bundled up in it.

‘Sweet Eru, Thel, why’d they sneak up on us like that?’ he muttered. ‘I mean, it’s not fair, it’s…’

‘Beloved sunlight, never did I think to come a day when you were not delighted to see Triwathon…’

‘Thel…’

Ecthelion leaned in to wrap a second towel around Glorfindel’s shoulders. The action brought his mouth close to Fin’s ear, and he took the chance to whisper reassurance.

‘I am teasing my light, forgive me! But you are beautiful you know, there is no need to hide your glorious form even from Triwathon, whose husband is present, after all. Now, are you satisfied you are covered?’

‘Yes, Thel, but… sunburn…?’

Ecthelion took Fin’s hand and led him from the tide.

‘Think of it for an excuse for me to massage you with lavender oil…’

‘Oh, Thel, did you have to…? This towels not thick enough for thoughts like that…’

Ecthelion laughed softly.

‘Never mind, beloved! I am sure, if Triwathon’s eyes dip below the level of your waist, his husband will have something to say about it!’

It did seem that the Silvan was struggling to control his gaze and with a sigh and apologetic shrug, decided to address the matter directly.

‘I beg your pardon,’ he began. ‘All of you, in fact… Glorfindel, I have never seen you without marks of battle on your body and… you may know, Lord Ecthelion, that when first I was introduced to your husband, he had expressed a wish to honour our traditions and ride home decorated in warrior paints, as we of the king’s Court Guard were about to. My captain volunteered me to assist; I remember we were all most in awe of such marks of battle as Glorfindel displayed, and I was honoured to be assigned the task…’

‘Oh, the warrior paints!’ Glorfindel frowned, as if concentrating. ‘You know, I’d forgotten that. Not the tradition, just…’

Triwathon flushed, obviously not impressed by Fin’s easy dismissal of what appeared to have been an important event for him. While applauding his husband’s insouciance, Thel could not help but feel a little sorry for the Silvan.

‘Ah, I am sure it must have been a magnificent spectacle!’ he said. ‘But please – let us go to the house… is all well in the camp, Master Parvon?’

‘Indeed, better than well – our king is returned! Both of our kings, in fact; the intention of the Night of the Names was a success; and King Oropher has been released from the Silent Halls… our prince is recovered from his illness, and is back amongst us, too – he and his spouse are at the camp as we speak, but we, my lords, have brought you a visitor…’

‘Oh?’ Ecthelion smiled politely. ‘Let me guess; Fin, I wonder if Oropher has taken you up on your invitation to drop in and take a drink with us…?’

‘Now, that wouldn’t surprise me!’ Fin said. ‘But he’ll want to see his people first, surely?’

‘In fact, our king – our senior king – is a little… overwhelmed, perhaps. He expressed a wish to see his old friends Ecthelion and Glorfindel and so we brought him here.’

‘Erestor and Arveldir are also here,’ Triwathon said. ‘As is King Thranduil… our apologies for springing this on you so, but…’

‘I do wonder how Mistress Lalbes has taken the news!’ Thel said. ‘She is constantly accusing us of seeking out low company… it is to be hoped that royal Sindar kings will impress her, at least! Well, here we are… will you say hello first, Fin, before you dress?’

‘Better had,’ Fin said. ‘Wouldn’t want to seem rude… oh, they’re in the good sitting room! Greetings, your majesties!’

‘My old friends Ecthelion and Glorfindel!’ 

A tall and stately Sinda with the traces of long suffering etched in his face stood and came across towards them. He reached out, checked, and shook his head.

‘What?’ Glorfindel said, grinning. ‘Still think you’re back in the Halls and can’t touch anyone?’

He opened his arms and then clasped the Sinda’s arms in greeting; it was too much, and Fin found himself pulled into a hug from which the king emerged slightly flustered. Glorfindel didn’t seem bothered.

‘Your turn, Thel?’

‘Ah, my sunbeam, there is such a thing as too much informality, you know!’ Ecthelion bowed. ‘Lord Oropher, welcome to our home.’

He stepped forward and clasped Oropher’s forearms in a less enthusiastic greeting; the king, more guarded now, accepted the formal embrace with a wry smile.

‘And my dear old friend Ecthelion! So this is the villa about which I heard so many plans?’

‘Indeed, my lord. I hope you have been offered refreshments…?’

‘An offer of tea… I thought you would at least have wine…’

‘I’ll speak to Lalbes and get changed on the way,’ Glorfindel said. ‘I shan’t be long.’

He inclined his head and left the room. Within seconds an irate female voice sounded in the distant house.

_‘And what do you think you’re doing, my lord Glorfindel, leaving wet footprints all over my clean floors? Wine, is it, wine for a king? I should hope you are going to dress before you present yourself to royalty, I must say, my lord, you have a too-easy way with you and it only encourages the wrong sort of person and…’_

Ecthelion closed the door on the tirade.

‘Mistress Lalbes is an excellent housekeeper, but she has taken it into her head that we are two miscreant elflings and it is her duty to scold us to decency,’ he said, taking a seat. ‘How good of you to visit, Oropher. And is all well with you? I know when first I emerged, it took me a little while to adapt…’

‘So many things are not as I expected!’ Oropher said. ‘But I am remiss; do you know my son Thranduil?’

Ecthelion bowed.

‘Indeed, we have met. I cannot claim old friendship, as can my husband, of course, but yes, indeed.’

‘I’m very proud of my boy; he brought so many home from Dagorlad, did you know? And took over the kingship in times of despair. He is married, you know, with elflings of his own now. Do you have elflings, Ecthelion?’

‘Alas no, my lord; it is one of the things about being an ellon married to an ellon, unless one adopts, and in the Undying Lands there is a dearth of orphaned elflings. But then, Fin is child enough, I suppose.’

Mistress Lalbes arrived with goblets and a large flagon of wine.

‘The best in our cellars, my lord, at least, what was left after Lord Glorfindel’s last little lapse…’

‘Thank you, Lalbes. Ah, this is a fine vintage – from the vineyards west of Lord Oromë’s forests, it is a favourite here…’ Ecthelion lifted his goblet in acknowledgment towards Arveldir and Erestor, whose vineyards had supplied the wine in question. ‘Do try some, Lord Oropher…’

Sipping at the wine and commenting on its quality gave everyone something to do; Ecthelion, perfect host as he was, recognised there was some more weighty matter pending which his visitors were waiting to broach, but that none of them were quite ready to find the words yet. But, ostensibly, they were here because Oropher had wanted to visit and so Thel turned his attention to the elder king.

‘It is strange, you must admit, Lord Oropher, to meet in the hröa when before we have on met in fëa; I do hope it is not a disappointment to you to be embodied again?’

‘No… the hair…’ Oropher tugged at his silver blond braids. ‘I am more aware of it now. And clothing… what are you wearing, may I ask? Why are you wet, is it the fashion?’

‘Ah, a gift from friends from the round world, very modern, I am afraid! Wet simply because I jumped into the tide with a towel for my husband who has been swimming this morning…’

‘I see. There are so many people, too… when I left the Halls, scores of people… I did not know the half of them, there was an elleth who they said was my wife, but I had no recollection… do you remember, am I married, Ecthelion?’

Most of the persons present shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Thranduil looked askance at Ecthelion, pretending not to. Thel raised his eyebrows.

‘I should hope so, my lord; you have just introduced your son to me, after all!’

‘Ah.’ Oropher nodded, the room relaxed. ‘Oh, here’s my old friend Glorfindel… some wine, mellon-nin? It is really quite potable…’

‘I should hope so, Oropher, I asked for the best for you.’ Glorfindel ghosted a wink at Erestor and Arveldir. ‘Tell you what, how about a tour of the gardens? I remember we bored you endlessly with talk of our garden, and the fountain Thel was planning… what do you say? It’s a fine day. Bring your drink, if you like.’

‘The sun is very bright, after the Halls, of course. But… yes, your gardens would be pleasant.’

Glorfindel escorted Oropher out, glancing over his shoulder at Ecthelion as he passed. Thel nodded, called for more wine, giving them chance to attain the gardens and be easily out of earshot.

‘Charming as it is to have such illustrious company,’ Ecthelion began. ‘And far be it from me to complain that finally we have guests which even my housekeeper cannot look down upon, I do wonder to what we owe the honour of so many visiting dignitaries…?’

‘Forgive the liberty,’ Arveldir said. ‘But our King Oropher did, indeed, express his wish to visit his erstwhile companions from the Halls…’

‘And so we also greet three King’s Advisors, a second king and a Commander of the Royal Guard…?’

‘Or… old friends, and a worried son,’ Arveldir countered. ‘You must have noticed, Oropher is a little… confused, perhaps. The Dowager Queen suggested a few days with the Healers, but his majesty refuses; he is not ill, he says, simply newly embodied and it occurred to us that if anyone understands the unique pressures of being freshly alive after long ages in the Halls, you and your spouse are the most experienced elves in Valinor.’

‘Indeed,’ Ecthelion said crisply. ‘My husband is indeed unique in being reborn twice! And while we are very pleased to see our old friend Oropher, I fail to see…’

‘He does not know my mother,’ Thranduil interrupted, his tone clipped, abrupt with distress. ‘There are times when he believes he is still in Mandos, and asks how we died, was it bad for us… We cannot introduce him to his loyal Silvans like this; he would be overwhelmed by their numbers and their love, and in turn, they would be heartbroken to see him so diminished… which would only feed my father’s guilt… your assistance in the matter would be invaluable…’

‘Your pardon, how? You wish me – us – to rehabilitate him?’

‘I am most grateful for your understanding…’

‘But wait!’ Ecthelion protested. ‘You cannot mean him to stay with us? We cannot possibly provide the in-depth healing and counselling he may require, and the memories it will bring back for Glorfindel…’

‘Yes. consider Glorfindel,’ Thranduil said, leaning forward in his seat. ‘Consider if it were he… would you not do all you could to help him?’

‘Of course; he is my husband, my fëa-mate…’

‘And Oropher is my father. I owe it to him to do all I can to help and you, my lord… you and Glorfindel are my best hope.’

Ecthelion shook his head. For himself, Oropher would not be an unwelcome guest, but the pain he might bring back to Glorfindel, when his golden hero had only just settled down from the Night of the Names… it was not fair to expect it; after all, Oropher was not their king…

‘He cannot meet his people like this; unless we force him, against his wishes, to go to the Healers, there is nowhere else…’

‘I understand Lord Arveldir and Master Erestor’s estate is quite beautiful,’ Ecthelion said. ‘And surely, Arveldir was known to Oropher in the old days…?’

‘In fact, my king, that is an excellent suggestion,’ Arveldir said. ‘Of course, we know nothing of re-embodiment but, sire, your father was my first king and I have always respected an honoured his memory…’

At his side Erestor stirred.

‘Indeed, a fine plan, and I do feel we Noldor owe his majesty at least some recompense. If King Oropher is willing…’

He fell silent as the sound of Glorfindel and Oropher’s voices were heard in the hall.

‘…We did, yes, we had the bathing pool added, and the room with the skylight for Thel to star-watch… oh, yes, the music room, the art room, a bedroom facing the sea with a balcony… even a room for me to do stuff in, although I mostly spend time with my goats, or on the beach if Thel’s busy…’

‘Arveldir!’ Oropher exclaimed as they entered. ‘Fin, I do not know if you’ve met Arveldir – he was shaping to be a fine advisor, in the day… and who is this with you, Arveldir…? I recognise him from somewhere…From Gil’s train, it is a spy, a Noldo spy…’ His hand went to his waist as if seeking a sword belt. ‘Glorfindel, take that ellon in charge…’

‘No, that’s Erestor, he’s not an enemy, he’s… a refugee,’ Fin said hastily. ‘Elrond didn’t approve of his friendships, so he left. It’s fine, Oropher, come on, would we have spies here? In our villa, our home? He’s Arveldir’s husband, that’s all. I used to work with him, he’s nice.’

‘I see… if you are sure… It is good to see you, Arveldir, are you well?’

‘Quite well, my king,’ the advisor said, disregarding the fact that Oropher seemed to have forgotten that Arveldir and Erestor had been there all along. ‘May I say it is good to see your majesty restored to yourself once more?’

‘Thank you… was there some wine, did someone say…?’

‘Come and sit down, I’ll find you some,’ Fin said, putting an arm around the senior king’s shoulders and steering him to a seat. He looked over at Ecthelion, his eyes tight with pain, and gave a shrug of apology. ‘Oropher’s going to visit with us for a bit, Thel, if that’s all right with you…’

Ecthelion made himself smile. It was apparent that sending Oropher to stay with Arveldir and Erestor would not be entirely safe; indeed, Arveldir had put a protective arm around his fëa-mate and both were ashen faced…

‘How delightful!’ Thel said. ‘Do not forget, we almost promised to visit Rog in New Gondolin… I hope that will not interfere with these plans, or any that King Thranduil may have…?’

‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ Fin said with bracing confidence. ‘Just a short visit, really; I promised Oropher he could meet the sheep…’

‘And the sea,’ Oropher said. ‘You remember, Ecthelion, we talked so much of the sea!’

‘We did indeed,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Well, someone had better break the good news to Mistress Lalbes.’

‘Excellent,’ Glorfindel said, beaming around the room. ‘See, Oropher? I told you Thranduil wouldn’t mind… so that’s settled, then.’ Except from the looks on everyone else’s faces, it clearly wasn’t… in a moment of rare empathy, Fin shrugged. ‘I know, Thel, you stay there, I’ll introduce our friend to Lalbes and Bruiven, and we’ll take a walk down to look at the sea for a bit.’

‘My apologies,’ Arveldir said as soon as Oropher was out of earshot. ‘I would willingly offer sanctuary to our king, but I cannot risk Erestor’s safety…’

‘Nonsense,’ Erestor said. ‘I am sure he would not hurt me in fact…’

‘No, but… it is not a chance I will take… besides, his majesty had forgotten we were here, that he already knew us…’

‘Perhaps in the next phase,’ Ecthelion said smoothly. ‘It will be beneficial for Oropher to have a transitional base once he leaves our care. How to interact with the world, to differentiate memory from reality – for in the Halls there is little other than memory, and Oropher has been alone there with only Lord Námo for company for too long… this will be the focus of our intentions, but there is a limit to what we can do. He will need somewhere else, when he leaves here.’

‘We are grateful,’ Thranduil said. ‘Parvon and Triwathon will liaise in all matters; we will arrange and send such attire as is fitting, and will restrict the numbers of attendants; two or three should do, to start…’

‘Excuse me, your majesty, but no, they will not. You will not; did you not hear? Glorfindel has invited our friend Oropher to stay, and so we will treat him.’

‘But he is a king!’

‘True enough, but he is not our king; must I repeat? He is our friend. We will send word daily, if you wish, and once your father wants companionship, we will issue invitations. But if you ask for our help, you must let us proceed in our own way. Until you have been for thousands upon thousands of years dead, bearing a crushing weight of guilt and remorse, until you have wished you could live simply so you could die again, and pay more for actions atoned for long since, you cannot begin to understand how terrible your father’s memories have been.’ 

Ecthelion rose to his feet and crossed to the window overlooking the garden in an attempt to walk away from his own memories of how Fin had suffered…

‘So, yes, send clothing. Simple garments; we did not think of such things in Mandos, one’s fëa was clothed or unclothed, as was fitting to the moment. Send easily managed shirts and leggings, soft boots… that sort of thing. Nothing too formal, or regal; if you remind him he is a king, you will bring back recollections of all those who died under his command.’

‘Very well. And it will help?’

Ecthelion stared out at the fountain playing in the garden, thinking about the loss of privacy, the increase of care Glorfindel had casually brought upon them, and sighed.

‘I do hope so,’ he said.


	19. House Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oropher causes confusion...

‘I begin to wonder whether we should have agreed to an attendant for our friend after all,’ Ecthelion murmured.

Since the departure of their other guests, Oropher had not let Fin and Thel out of his sight. Even now, as he was sitting on the side of the fountain and wondering at the play of its cool water on his hands, the elder king would glance around to make sure one or other of his friends were within call.

‘He’ll be fine,’ Glorfindel said with bracing confidence. ‘He’s been alone so long… except when he came out and was met by a horde of eager Silvans… that’s what he said, that there were more than he expected, and for a moment, he thought they were there to accuse him… I couldn’t let him go on without giving him a bit of breathing space…’

‘I know, I do understand. In fact, if he were not with us, the Healers would have been his only option…’

‘That wouldn’t do at all. He’s not injured… not where you can see, anyway.’

‘Those are always the most difficult scars to heal.’

‘Well, he’s in the right place,’ Fin said. ‘We know all about that one, don’t we?’

Thel laid his hand on Glorfindel’s arm.

‘It was generous of you to invite him,’ he said.

‘I’m beginning to think I should have said, come back tomorrow. I’ve still got salt in my hair, I can’t wash it clean, by myself, not properly…’

‘We have an hour before supper; you go to the bathing pool, I will tell Oropher we have business to attend to.’

The king didn’t take it well.

‘What do you mean, business? Can it not wait?’

‘We have already delayed the matter as long as possible.’

‘Well, do you need my help?’

‘Not at all, Oropher. You may stay here, if you wish, with the fountain. Or I can arrange for refreshments for you on the veranda, if you like.’

‘That sounds pleasant. You won’t be long, will you?’

‘Supper is in an hour, so, no, not too long. If you need anything, meanwhile, call for Lalbes, or Bruiven.’

He left instructions with Mistress Lalbes, who really seemed to have taken to Oropher.

‘Poor fellow,’ she said, sniffing. ‘When he has to rely on the likes of Silvans…’

‘In fact, he is very fond of his subjects,’ Ecthelion said. ‘If possible, see that Glorfindel and I are not disturbed.’

‘Oh, and Bruiven and I have moved everything from the balcony room to your main room, my lord, as Lord Glorfindel asked… I am sure his majesty will like the view after being cooped up for so long…’

‘Indeed?’ Ecthelion replied; it was news to him, but of course, Fin did have ideas from time to time… ‘Our thanks, then, Mistress Lalbes.’

Glorfindel was already in the pool, and smiled as Thel shed his clothes and joined him.

‘Hello, there!’ he said. ‘I thought you’d never get here!’

‘As did I, my sunlight… did you suggest Oropher have the balcony room?’

Fin shrugged, and ducked under the water, waiting until he surfaced to reply.

‘When I gave him the tour. He really, really liked this room… I told him there was no sea view from here… don’t worry, I moved the music boxes myself, they’re set up in the dressing room… so he’s got the sunrise…’

‘But, my light, you love that room!’

‘I love you more, though, and this is your favourite. Besides…’ he splashed energetically. ‘Bathing pool? Wasn’t going to give this up; Oropher will have to make do with the house facilities!’

‘I still say it is kind of you. Now, come, let me sort out your hair… you have salt in it, did you know…?’

Fin laughed and relaxed under Ecthelion’s sure hands. His hair was gently washed, rinsed, washed again with a different mixture, his scalp thoroughly massaged and chamomile added to the final rinse to bring out the lighter tones. Then he himself was stroked and rubbed with soft soap, and Thel slid his body close and Glorfindel forgot all about washing for a while… 

‘And I promised you lavender oil against sunburn, too,’ Ecthelion added as they pressed towels against each other’s skin. ‘Now, or later?’

‘Probably best later, my Thel. Or we’ll be late for supper.’

‘Later it is, then.’

*

Supper was interesting. 

Oropher looked at his plate with a puzzled expression until Glorfindel prompted him.

‘You need to choose some food and eat it,’ he said, grinning. ‘It’s not like in the Halls, eating isn’t optional…’

‘I do not know…’

‘You must have eaten since you left, surely?’ Ecthelion suggested.

‘Possibly; it is vague. But I have this strange sensation, I am not sure food is a good idea… some wine, maybe…?’

Fin laughed, shaking his extremely beautiful hair.

‘Yes, you managed to get the hang of drinking quickly enough! This sensation… sort of… an emptiness, a cramping…?’

‘It is… how did you know…?’

‘It is called ‘hunger’. May I suggest you start simply, bread and butter and soup, perhaps?’

‘Ah. Of course. Do we serve ourselves…?’

‘Yes, it isn’t a formal dinner, you know,’ Fin said. ‘Mind, if you’re not sure of your handling ability yet, maybe we should help. Spills on the tablecloth and Mistress Lalbes will scold until she’s hoarse… and it won’t be you she picks on, she likes you!’

Once Oropher started, however, he soon remembered and made a hearty meal.

‘Is this the sort of fare you generally serve, my friends?’ he asked. ‘Since, as you say, it is not a formal supper…’

‘We eat quite simply, generally,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Cook despairs of us; she is able to produce meals worthy of any royal banquet and instead she has to produce what she calls ‘soldiers’ fare’. Occasionally we permit her to make cakes and pastries, however, just so she does not feel too hard done by.’

‘How many servants do you keep?’ Oropher asked. 

Fin raised his eyebrows and Thel paused for a moment; Oropher had been a king, of course, used to having people there for his slightest requirement…

‘We have four members of staff,’ Ecthelion said with careful precision. ‘Mistress Lalbes and her husband Bruiven, of course, our cook, and an elleth from the village who helps with the chickens and the laundry and such. But really, Lalbes and Bruiven are more like family. Certainly, Lalbes gave us almost a mother’s care when she first arrived.’

‘We needed it,’ Glorfindel said with a grin. ‘I’d not been too long in the Halls, second time around, but it was my first time in Valinor for ages – quite literally… and for Thel, of course, it was all new…’

‘Disorienting,’ Ecthelion agreed. ‘In fact, it was Mistress Lalbes who suggested we acquire livestock. Not just for the kitchen and the market, but because contact with ephemeral creatures would help anchor us in reality; we might forget to feed ourselves, but the bleating of hungry goats is not to be disregarded.’

‘And, of course, if we lost track, she was there to scold us.’ Fin grinned as he said it. ‘Yes, she’s a good sort, our Lalbes.’

‘And that is why you keep her on, in spite of all the liberties you claim she takes?’

Ecthelion frowned. ‘Do you know, it never occurred to us not to! We like her, in fact, we like all our staff here. We have grown used to each other, perhaps.’

‘And the buildings here? They are from your own plans, I remember how you planned… was it difficult to achieve?’

‘When first we set up,’ Fin said, ‘we lived in a campaign tent for a few months. The first building we made, that’s where my goats are housed. A young – well, I say young, I really mean, he’d not long arrived – an innovative chap in the town helped us with the villa – we had big ideas, but no real knowledge.’

‘Except fountains; I knew how to set a water feature, of course,’ Ecthelion added. ‘The villa grew in stages; our suite was the first part and served as our entire home. In fact, we were almost content with that alone. But then, we did want to have space for guests and Master Baudh had such good ideas…’

‘I think it took a decade or so to get it right. As soon as we had the kitchen set up, Baudh introduced us to Bruiven and Lalbes who came to work for us. We hadn’t realised, but we needed other people around us – not too close, but there, to remind us how to live.’

‘In fact, on more than one occasion, Baudh came to start work for the day and we would not have moved since he left the previous evening. He would remind us to move, to eat, to generally behave like elves and not like ghosts. It takes time, Oropher, to adapt. The things that are most important, they will come back. Try not to force the process, but to allow it to happen. In that I was most fortunate, for Glorfindel was there to remind me, in the Halls, and so it was not too much of a shock for me. But I think you were alone there too long.’

‘Lord Námo said I could leave, but I still felt… besides, who would have wanted me? Where would I have gone?’

‘Well, you have somewhere now,’ Glorfindel said. ‘And when you’re ready, there’s an entire forest full of Silvans waiting.’

‘Ah, I have missed the Greenwood… of course, it was not my first home… I remember…’ Oropher fell silent. ‘No, perhaps I do not remember. But I feel I should…’

‘Give yourself time,’ Ecthelion repeated. ‘Once you adapt to being embodied again, all will follow.’

*

Except it did not seem Lord Oropher would have an easy time adapting…

The following morning Ecthelion lay on his side, head propped in one hand and watching Glorfindel’s face change in response to the lazy workings of his other hand. Easy and slow, his fingers curled around a very interesting part of Fin’s anatomy, his wrist fluid, languid as he worked the velvet skin over its mithril-hard core, the beautiful blue eyes widening, darkening, Fin moistening his lips and giving the little twitches and gasps that suggested soon he would need kissing, and holding, and rather more attention than just a hand, and…

A sudden shriek and a crash elsewhere in a house interrupted Thel’s rhythm and, indeed, the mood. Glorfindel jumped, but not in a good way, and both sat up, staring at the door.

‘Cook,’ Thel said, slipping from the bed and finding a robe to wrap around himself while Fin merely bundled down under the covers. ‘I do hope…’

But he broke off as the door handle tried to turn, rattled… as a precaution against possible sleepwalking from their guest, they had, for once, locked the door.

‘Glorfindel? Ecthelion? There is something amiss in your kitchens, and I cannot… this door…’

Glorfindel sighed and Ecthelion shook his head, turning the key in the lock.

‘What is going on?’ Oropher exclaimed. ‘The doors in Mandos did not resist…’

‘This is our room, Oropher, mine and Fin’s.’

‘So? Well, never mind, your cook’s upset about something…’

‘Was that before or after you spoke to her, Oropher?’ Thel asked. From the bed came a sound like a stifled laugh which Thel ignored. 

‘After, I simply wanted directions to the bathing pool… it is in here, isn’t it?’

‘Ah.’ Thel pulled open a drawer and removed a large white towel, which he passed to Oropher. ‘The pool… it’s not communal, Oropher, it is mine and Fin’s…’

‘Well, you share it, don’t you?’

‘Because Fin and I are married, Oropher; this is our private suite, the pool is part of our rooms.’

‘You didn’t have a private suite in Mandos.’

‘No, because we did not have physical form… it was different. I cannot help but notice, you are not dressed…?’

‘Well, no, going to the bathing pool…’

‘Oropher… even Fin wears clothes to walk through the house…’ At least, he did when they were not alone. ‘I expect that’s what distressed Cook, she probably wasn’t expecting to be faced with an unclothed king…’

‘It’s not like Mandos,’ Fin said from the bed. ‘Clothes don’t just appear and disappear, as appropriate. You have to remember to put them on and take them off. And that other people might not understand the problem…’

‘Ah. Now, about this bathing pool…’

‘It’s a private pool,’ Thel said firmly. ‘Come with me, I’ll take you to the house facilities… and that towel is not just for carrying, wrap it around your person, yes? That’s better.’

‘I’ll have a word in the kitchens,’ Fin said. ‘And, yes, I will get dressed first…’

*

‘It really is not difficult,’ Ecthelion said. ‘The washing cascade functions by pulling this handle; it then releases warm water from above…’

‘It seems very modern…’

‘Oh, so modern, indeed! There were fountains of similar design back in Gondolin, my friend, and I should know, for I designed them! It is only the use of them for washing that is anything like innovative… Well, there is the bathing tub instead. It fills thusly and to empty it, simply remove the stopper. Do not let it overfill, or Mistress Lalbes will me most annoyed…’

‘I see. The bathing pool seems simpler, however…’

‘When you are established in your kingdom once more, Oropher, I am sure you may have one installed to your own design. In the meantime, there is this room, or there is the sea.’

Oropher forced a laugh.

‘Very well, I take your meaning… I do not quite see why you are so determined to refuse such a simple notion, but never mind…’ He paused, his expression growing puzzled. ‘Do you know, Ecthelion, you have quite, quite startling eyes when one looks… I had not noticed, but you really are most handsome…’

Ecthelion smiled and took a step back, trying to make it look casual.

‘Thank you, yes, Glorfindel does seem rather taken with my looks… it is kind of you to notice, however, a married ellon such as yourself. But then, your wife was – is – a beauty, of course.’

‘Is she?’ Oropher said. ‘I really do not recall…’

A knock on the door, and Bruiven was there, much to Ecthelion’s private relief.

‘Your pardon, my lords, but Lord Glorfindel suggested I could perhaps assist Lord Oropher with such things as the workings of the plumbing.’

‘What an excellent idea, Bruiven!’ Ecthelion said, taking the opportunity to exit the room. ‘Lord Oropher may need assistance with clothing, perhaps. Breakfast in an hour, outside in the garden, Oropher – assuming Cook has recovered enough to provide us with any. My husband and I will see you there, Oropher.’

He kept to his usual languid saunter until he reached the suite, then hurried in and shut the door after himself, sliding home the bolt. Glorfindel, poised in the act of taking off the clothes he’d thrown on for decency’s sake, grinned.

‘Poor Cook, being treated to an eyeful of the Royal Standard this early in the day! It was just a shock, she said, and nothing really valuable got broken… Thel? What’s happened?’

‘Ah.’ Thel leaned his head back against the door, debating the wisdom of sharing the little scene that had just passed. The need to process the event won, however, and he tried for a lightness of tone he wasn’t really feeling. ‘It is nothing, really. Our dear friend Oropher just paid me the most fulsome of compliments! I was not expecting it, and I am rather…’

‘Are you all right?’ Glorfindel asked, coming over to put his hands on Thel’s shoulders and look into his eyes. ‘I often wondered about Oropher, all that time in the Halls with you while I was waiting on Elrond and things, and him only having the one child…’

Thel laughed and let Glorfindel cuddle him in.

‘He is new to his body, and confused… I took the chance to remind him that I was married to you, and that he had a wife… but I think, perhaps, we need to think about other companionship for him…’

‘What, getting his wife over? Do you think that’s a good idea, if he can’t remember her for himself?’

‘I was thinking more of those who remember her for themselves… if there is anyone other than close family…’

Glorfindel pulled back to look into his husband’s eyes and smile. 

‘Our friend Merlinith, she knew the dowager queen, I think… and she and Araspen might be able to help with some sort of physical therapy, keep Oropher’s hands busy…’

‘What do you mean, my sunlight?’

‘Well… time was that Thranduil’s elk wouldn’t go anywhere without bells on his harness, courtesy of a crocheted gift from Arwen… now, she learned from her mother, who was taught by hers, who got it from her father Celeborn, who learned from… so they say… Oropher… just the thing for his fine muscle control, don’t you think?’

‘It is perfect, darling!’ Ecthelion said faintly, taking all that in. ‘And such charming conversationalists as the ladies are…’

‘Gossips, yes…’

‘…indeed, they will no doubt assist in rehabilitating Oropher in other ways, too. You are quite adorably clever at times, Fin, did you know?’

Glorfindel laughed.

‘I’ll settle for adorable, from you, any day! Now, if I remember rightly, we were interrupted at a very interesting moment…’

‘We were indeed, beloved; shall we pick up where we left off…?’

‘Perhaps a few moments before, Thel; it was really very nice…’


	20. Rehabilitating Oropher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which arrangements are made to help Oropher with his hand-eye co-ordination...

After breakfast, Ecthelion paid a visit to the kitchens to apologize again for Oropher’s behaviour.

‘For in the Halls of Mandos, one exists as a fëa only, and appears clothed or unclothed, depending on whether or not it is day, and one is mingling with the other souls there, or the equivalent of night.’

Lalbes nodded.

‘Yes, I remember what you were like, my lord, back in the early days… I think it was just the shock, not being what Cook expected to find in her domain, as it were…’

‘Needless to say, we will, of course, do all we can to stop such a thing happening again.’

‘Of course. And my Bruiven will keep an eye on him, too. I think if Cook had a real kitchen challenge, that might help her get over it faster, you know. Take her mind off things…’

…Ai, and had it been Glorfindel holding this conversation, at this point he would have suggested sausages, no doubt…  
Ecthelion restrained himself.

‘In fact, I want to invite Mistresses Merlinith and Araspen to join us for a meal, perhaps for supper.’

He paused, waiting for the sniff that he expected to follow, but Mistress Lalbes was in surprisingly calm mood.

‘Very well, my lord,’ she said. ‘They seem pleasant enough ellith.’

‘Oh, so you approve them now?’ Ecthelion allowed himself to smile. ‘May I ask what brought about this change of heart?’

‘It is more… two ellith, coming calling to two such well-favoured ellyn as yourselves, of course I was on my guard. But it seems they are not likely to try to disrupt the family harmony.’

‘Ah, I see! And how very astute of you!’

‘…unlike this poor fey king, of course. Not to speak out of turn, my lord, but… my Bruiven could not help overhearing and you know how it is… best he bring it to me than to the tavern… and so…’

‘…Lalbes, I assure you…’

‘…we will be watching to make sure you are not disconcerted by his majesty in future…’

‘Thank you. But he is my friend; I am sure he is simply bewildered by the change in his situation…’

‘Yes, my lord, but consider… if it were a stranger, would Lord Glorfindel have let the matter rest with simply putting his arm around you throughout breakfast? That is to say, would it not have ended with a kinslaying…? My point being, my lord, just because the old king is a friend, you should not be made to feel uncomfortable. It’s harder to back away from a friend.’ She nodded for emphasis. ‘When I think, you and Lord Glorfindel, let loose to live here with nobody to help and advise you... it wasn’t right!’

‘Lalbes. Perhaps that was so, but… we have you, and your Bruiven, and I am really very grateful for your care.’

‘Thank you, my lord. We need to think about Lord Glorfindel, too, he needs his routine, if he’s thrown out of the count of his days, it makes him fragile… So. Did you want someone from the house to take a message to Mistress Merlinith for you?’

‘No; today is Glorfindel’s day for pampering his goats, Oropher can bear him company while I walk across. But my thanks.’

Ecthelion changed into garments more suited to walking to the Silvan camp, and went out to seek Glorfindel in the field behind the villa where the goats roamed freely. The former Lord of the House of the Golden Flower had a large bowl set up, full of sudsy water, and was presently trying to coerce the long-fleeced billy to step in, Oropher watching at a safe distance. The billy’s front legs in the water, Fin proceeded to scrub away at the cloven hooves while the animal nibbled experimentally at his hair.

‘Shall I hold the harness for you, my light?’ Thel asked, and Fin looked up, grinning.

‘Please. Evil-Eyed El doesn’t want to help, today.’

Ecthelion took firm hold of the goat’s halter, and disregarded the baleful glare he got in return.

‘I cannot stay long, beloved, I am walking over to the camp. Do you mind?’

‘No, of course not. Oropher will help, if I need extra hands. There. Just done.’ Glorfindel rubbed the worst of the wet from the goat’s feet, and got up to kiss his husband chastely on the cheek. ‘Have a nice walk.’

‘I will not be too long.’

As Thel walked off towards the coast path, Fin smiled to himself and gave Evil-Eyed El a rub behind his ears.

‘Right, mellon-nin, what we need to do now is get your coat groomed out and then wax those horns of yours… Here, Oropher – throw me that brush, will you?’

It took the king a couple of attempts and a frown of great concentration before he could pick up the brush in question, and managed to throw it so that it landed further away from Glorfindel than it had been to start with.

‘Hmm. Need to work on hand-eye co-ordination a bit. Still, it’ll come. Here, you hold him, I’ll get the brush. That’s it. Just like that, fine.’

Fin retrieved the brush, caught a strange look on Oropher’s face.

‘Are you well, Oropher?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I… had not realised, how very interesting are the horns of a goat, all the small details of growth; it minds me of the whorl of a sea-shell…’

‘Of course it does… He seems to like you, though, keep him there and I’ll brush him out a bit.’

‘And you, Glorfindel, I did not think your eyes were so very blue… have they always been so…?’

Glorfindel swallowed. First, Thel, and now him? There had to be something behind this…

Something clicked, and if it wasn’t the reason, well, it was a very good attempt at one…

‘Oh, I know what this is – not my eyes, old friend, it’s yours. You haven’t looked at anything, not really, not closely, for how many ages? And out you come into this colourful world – that’s the thing, everything is brighter and more vibrant here… so you notice it more… So, yes, goat’s horns, amazing, my eyes, too blue, Thel’s hair, loveliest thing ever…’

‘Do I need to apologise?’ Oropher said with care. ‘I may have commented on your husband’s appearance…’

‘It’s just the new eyes, that’s all,’ Fin said firmly. ‘Best to leave it be, I think.’

*

Fin repeated this possible interpretation of Oropher’s behaviour to Ecthelion when he walked out to meet his husband returning from the camp.

‘So, nothing to worry about, I think.’

‘I do believe you may be right,’ Thel said, smiling as Fin cuddled him in against his shoulder to walk the last distance to the villa. ‘But Mistress Lalbes has already put Bruiven on high alert.’

Glorfindel laughed.

‘Well, needn’t worry about you then, need I? But you should have heard Oropher, goats’ horns are incredibly beautiful, apparently… now, how did you get on?’

Ecthelion sighed. ‘I wanted to have a chat with Erestor about the king’s progress, but Thranduil wanted a formal report and then wished to invite himself for supper. I did not hold back with him, where I may have done with his advisor, and he had the grace to look embarrassed and finally accepted that perhaps he would be an intrusion in our home…’

‘You said that? Thel! Not that I mind…’

‘Not in so many words. But I reminded him that Oropher was our guest, not he, and that if he wanted his father back, well, we would not mind in the slightest…!’ Ecthelion shrugged. ‘I did not really mean it…’

‘We’re already doing a lot for him and his Silvans, if you think about it,’ Fin agreed. ‘If it’s too much, love…’

‘No, don’t worry. I have not yet reached the limits of my patience. As to our other thoughts, Merlinith and her spouse are busy this morning, but will come this afternoon and then stay for supper. Subsequently, if all goes well, they will come in the mornings so you, my darling, can have your usual swim, and I can sit and glory in the sight of you.’

Glorfindel smiled.

‘Perfect!’ he said. ‘I wondered how we’d manage… that is, I suppose I thought Oropher would want to come along, too… wasn’t really sure I’d feel properly free, you know, if he was…’

‘It is one thing, my light, to be generous and helpful for old friendship’s sake, and another to allow that old friendship to intrude between us; I would not have it so.’

‘Oh, Thel…’ Glorfindel drew his husband in for a hug. ‘That’s it, that’s exactly it! As long as we can still be us, everything will be fine.’

‘And as long as we remember to say if anything is troubling us. Well, are you going to show me your goats?’

Glorfindel grinned and broke the hug.

‘I thought you’d never ask!’

*

Araspen and Merlinith arrived in the middle of the afternoon with an eye-catching selection of yarn which they decanted onto a bowl on the table in the sitting room while Fin was persuading Oropher to leave the goats alone and come and make friends with their friends instead.

‘We thought, if our dear king would sit between us, then we can both assist, should he go awry,’ Araspen suggested. ‘While you, Lord Ecthelion, and your husband can both sit on Merlinith’s other side where she can help if need be.’

‘Help?’ Ecthelion asked mildly.

‘Yes – for you and he are going to learn too, are you not? It will hide any anxiety our dear king may have, if he sees you are learning alongside. Now, I understand – that is, so it was said, that he – our dear king – already knows how to work crochet, but that he is not yet quite used to managing things yet…’

‘Might I suggest…? Of course, you revere him, but he is here as our friend. “Lord Oropher” will be enough title, I think, while Fin and I do not require lording ourselves, Mistress Araspen…’

Araspen squeaked as the doorway darkened, and dropped into a deep curtsey. Merlinith followed suit, but rose beaming to clutch at her friend’s arm.

‘It is he, it is, oh, really, it is, our king, our first king, it is…’

‘All friends here,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Araspen, Merlinith, Oropher, our house guest. Oropher, our friends Merlinith and Araspen.’

‘Ladies.’ Oropher bowed to them, gestured. ‘It is as Glorfindel says, we are all friends here. Do not stand on ceremony; they will not allow me to do so.’

‘Come, sit down, be easy. Merlinith has brought some things with her,’ Glorfindel said. ‘She’s going to teach us to crochet…’

Oropher barked a laugh.

‘Is she so? Well, young lady, let me tell you that I already know how…’

*

After a shaky start all went well. Oropher struggled at first to manage the fine manipulations of yarn and hook to begin, but on being presented a larger hook and thicker yarn, remembered the hows of making concentric squares from a few simple stitches quite adequately. Privately Thel wondered at that, how one could remember a random sequence of wrapping yarn around hooks and pulling it through in certain ways, and yet not remember one’s avowed fëa-mate, but he kept the thought to himself as he wasted yarn and laughed at the tangle Glorfindel kept getting into. A break for refreshments and some very fine dainty baking from the kitchens, and Oropher returned to the business of the afternoon with a proper sized hook and selected for himself a murky brown yarn that had nothing at all to recommend itself.

‘Perhaps just make the central rows from that,’ Merlinith suggested. ‘It will work best as an accent colour.’

Thel wondered at the gentle way she suggested it, and wondered more when, Oropher selecting yellow for his following rounds, the ellith exchanged knowing looks. 

But it wasn’t until he was walking them back towards the camp after supper that he had privacy to ask.

‘Well, you see, it was Nestoril’s idea,’ Merlinith said. ‘She being a Healer… she said, the colours our king picked would indicate how he was feeling.’

‘Ah. So that dull muddy brown, not really a positive beginning, then?’

‘No… but then, on prompting, he chose yellow. That’s what people pick when they want it to look like they’re happy, so Ness says. But to watch mostly and see if the colours he chooses changes at all.’

‘I see. And do you have any other instructions, may I ask?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Merlinith said, dimpling as she smiled. ‘We are supposed to convince you that Thranduil ought to visit his father every day…’

‘Tell him if he’s prepared to sit in on crochet class, I will consider inviting him!’

Araspen laughed.

‘Indeed, it is better not, don’t you think? Well, we will return tomorrow. Will you be joining us?’

‘In fact, if you are happy to sit with Oropher by yourselves, Fin and I have plans for the morning. We will greet you before we leave, however, and will be back in time for lunch.’

*

‘I like this new plan,’ Glorfindel said on the following morning, pulling a towel around his shoulders as, wet from his swim, he cuddled Ecthelion on the beach of their second favourite bay. ‘We get time together, privately, Oropher gets to work on his hand-eye co-ordination – and to see his Silvans still care for him… Cook makes nice cakes for our guests, and everyone is happy!’

Ecthelion laughed and pressed the towel against Glorfindel’s upper arms.

‘Yes, my golden light, everyone is happy! Now, come, let me dry you off, and it is time to be heading back for the day meal. If we leave now, we can slip in through the side door and you can wash off in the bathing pool first.’

‘Perfect!’

‘It shall be, my shining love.’

And it was, really, by the time they had done washing and splashing and making themselves late for lunch, a perfect end to the morning.


	21. 'Those Who Love Us...'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Merlinith says a little too much, and Glorfindel and Thel have to deal with the fallout...

Several days elapsed in much the same pattern; Merlinith and Araspen arriving after breakfast and following a few minutes’ chat, Glorfindel and Ecthelion heading out to the beach while the ladies conducted genteel crochet sessions and gossiped easily about life in the camp, making Oropher casually aware that he was missed, and remembered with fondness, all under cover of passing the time while they worked.

More than once Fin and Thel arrived late to the lunch table, with Fin’s hair still damp from the bathing pool but both of them feeling relaxed and comfortable. The day meal provided the perfect opportunity to enquire as to the morning’s craft session, and Thel listened with every appearance of interest to details about double trebles and magic circles; his and Glorfindel’s initial attempts had not inspired him to take the hobby further, although Glorfindel had seemed to like playing with the wool.

‘Interesting colours,’ Fin said as Oropher proudly brought out his morning’s work. ‘That orange really looks striking against the pink, and the outer band of purple is very… very… What’s it going to be?’

‘I do not know it is going to be anything,’ Oropher said. ‘It simply is.’

‘How are matters at the camp today?’ Ecthelion asked into the smiling silence which followed Oropher’s pronouncement. Merlinith hurried to answer.

‘Good, they are very pleasant. Although the Lord of the Hunt is growing eager to depart, he says, and many of our company wish to go with him. Others do not want to immerse themselves in the forest just yet; they would like to explore the land a little first.’ She paused to glance at Araspen. ‘In fact, we have been invited to join Master Mindomen in his tailoring emporium. Araspen thinks he hasn’t realised we’re married yet, and has designs on one or other of us, but I think he’s after our sewing machines, myself…’

Glorfindel laughed.

‘Well, you’ll find a few Silvans in the town, too, and not all of them because they’re banned from the forest because of poaching.’

‘It is not that I do not love the forest,’ Merlinith said. ‘But we – those of us lately arrived – have lived so differently this last three Ages that it is hard to adjust…’

‘Oh, I know all about that one!’ Fin said. ‘That’s one reason Thel and I came here. Just for a bit of peace, at first, to get used to being us again. And we found we loved being near the sea… we keep talking of visiting New Gondolin, perhaps, but it’s not happened yet.’

‘The town elders do not like us being on the plain for so long,’ Araspen put in. ‘They say it is their land, and while they are glad to welcome us, they want us gone…’

‘Ah, now that’s nonsense!’ Fin protested. ‘The land belongs to the Valar. All of us, wherever we live, do so with their agreement and under their care.’

‘We are welcome to make use of the land with permission, of course; there are finite boundaries to where our flock grazes, where we keep our hives, but these are agreed with our hosts and drawn up as formal documents simply for the records,’ Ecthelion said. ‘But the plain is meant to be common land, for those who journey by ship, and those who come to greet them. If any of your friends wished to settle, there is plenty of free space in the region.’

‘Basically, you can use whatever land you need. So if you want to keep goats, and sheep, you will find you have more granted you than if you simply want a house and a garden. There is plenty of room, after all.’

‘Perhaps they have a point, though, perhaps we need to move on.’ Araspen sighed. ‘But… our king – Thranduil, that is – he wishes to wait. As does our Queen… Erestor and Arveldir want to return to their estate…’

‘Your queen?’ Thranduil asked, looking up with sudden interest. ‘Thranduil had no queen, she would not be his queen…’

‘No, not Lady Baralinith,’ Merlinith said slowly with a glance at Araspen that made Ecthelion wonder if there had been a plan to bring up this particular topic. ‘Our queen. Your queen, Lord Oropher? Thranduil’s mother, your lady wife?’

Oropher shook his head.

‘I do not remember…’

‘Do you not? Oh, how sad that is! Well, now, I remember her, I do, although I was very young, just a little older than my brother, when you set off for war…’ Merlinith sighed. ‘We watched them ride out, our warriors, with you and your son at their head, Lord King, so brave you all looked! And my Adar there, amongst the warriors…’ She smiled down at her plate, toying with her cutlery. ‘Your queen, she was wonderful! While you were away, she held us together, took care of us, was brave and strong and… and when word came my father had died the same day you did, my lord, she brought us the news herself, and his gemstone. She sat with my mother, and my brother and me, and she shared her own sorrow with us. “You are not alone in this,” she said. “It does not stop the pain… but know, others share in it, also.” And after she had gone, my mother hugged us both, and said, at least she knew her children were safe, our queen still had a son to worry about.’

‘My mother says she did that for everyone,’ Araspen put in with her soft little voice. ‘She took the news, and the gemstone, every time. She sat with the families and shared their sorrow.’

‘And afterwards, when it was done and the survivors returned home, led by your son, my lord, she welcomed them, and attended all the rituals, and kept us strong, still. She made sure our King Thranduil knew all he needed to know about the kingdom. And only then, only once she knew we were safe and secure, only then did she allow herself to turn her face towards the Halls of Mandos and follow you, my lord, to spend the time waiting with you.’

‘I did not see her there,’ Oropher said, his tone clipped and hard with suppressed emotion.

‘That is saddest of all, is it not?’ Merlinith went on. ‘That you should both be there, and not share the time… I understand, it is a comfort, to be with one you loved in life…?’

She looked at Glorfindel as she spoke, and Fin nodded slowly.

‘Yes, just to be able to talk to them…’ He glanced over at Ecthelion. ‘To come to your senses, such as they are in Mandos, and see your best friend in all the world is holding your hand, or would be, if you were able to touch properly…’

Ecthelion cleared his throat, choked with emotion, the sound masked by Oropher continuing in harsh tones.

‘…I did not deserve to see her, I had failed my Silvans, my kinsmen, my subjects, I deserved no less than the severest punishment and…’

‘Your Silvans, Lord King, forgave you long ago,’ Araspen said. ‘That is, there was nothing to forgive, unless to have a king who would die for you is in need of forgiving? It is said, you punish yourself too much, and even now, when we want you back, you refuse to see all is well…’

‘It’s not just that,’ Glorfindel put in. ‘The longer you’re in the Halls, the harder it is to adjust to outside again, it’s…’

‘So many died. It is not possible to punish oneself too much for that.’

‘But now, they live,’ Merlinith said simply. ‘Only those who are still paying for their transgressions are left in the Halls. Everyone else – including your wife, Oropher, Lord King, they are alive again, and waiting for you. If you could just see…’

‘I am tired,’ Oropher said, rising abruptly from his chair. ‘I will rest now. Good day to you.’

He stalked from the room leaving the ellith sighing and sad and Ecthelion puzzled.

‘Was there a reason, ladies, for bringing up the past so dramatically?’ he asked.

‘Indeed there was,’ Merlinith said. ‘Nestoril said, once he started on purple, he’d be recovering his sense of leadership and it would be a good time to mention his responsibilities… But we should apologise, perhaps, for drawing you into the discussion. If we caused offence, or distress…’

‘No, don’t worry!’ Glorfindel said, his voice over-bright as he tried to lighten the mood. ‘We talk about when we were dead all the time, don’t we, Thel?’

‘I would not say it was a regular topic of conversation in fact, but sometimes…’

‘Oh, I am sorry!’ Araspen said. ‘I… we do not really know what it is like…’

‘Nor did I know our king had not met our queen there… is it true? That is, of course, if he says…’

‘We didn’t even know she was there,’ Fin said. ‘But we never met her while we were alive, so why would we? I knew Oropher during his first life, but never met his queen.’

‘What should we do? Should someone see how he is?’

‘No,’ Ecthelion said. ‘We pay our guest the courtesy of taking what he says on face value; if he claims to be tired, then we will leave him to rest.’

‘Should we wait and apologise?’

‘You are welcome to stay, of course. But you have other things to do with your afternoons, I think, and if we are trying to help your king adjust to routine once more, then perhaps you should follow your regular patterns.’

‘Then, thank you for inviting us to eat with you, we are very grateful. I do not suppose you will walk back to the camp with us?’

‘If you wish it… Fin, what do you say? Fancy a walk?’

‘Well, if Oropher’s resting, you’re not going to be able to play to me on the veranda, are you? Why not? Bring your flute, we can find somewhere quiet on the way back and fill it up with beautiful sounds.’

*

Once near enough to be in sight of the camp, however, Glorfindel hung back.

‘You know, not really sure I feel terribly sociable today… do you mind if we turn back now?’

‘I am sure it will be fine, my sunflower,’ Ecthelion said. ‘It is not as if we are needed; the ladies, I am sure, are quite capable of making any reports Thranduil or Erestor may require…’

‘In fact, when I said earlier that Erestor and Arveldir were eager to return to their home, they are quite ready, and are trying to hand over everything as soon as possible; I think they might like a bit of a chat…’ Merlinith lifted a hand and began to wave. ‘Oh, there they are, with Parvon and his husband near Thranduil’s pavilion …’ 

‘So they are,’ Ecthelion said, taking Glorfindel by the hand. ‘Well, they are obviously busy so we will not interrupt; perhaps another time. In any case, we will see you tomorrow, after breakfast, as usual. And please – make sure you emphasise how unfortunately stressful today’s conversation was for our friend.’

Merlinith looked contrite.

‘Yes, well, it’s all very well for you, Ecthelion. You haven’t had your brother nattering in your ear all day long about his honour-parents…’

‘…your brother…?’

‘My brother Govon is married to Legolas. Or did you not know?’

‘It may have been mentioned but, to be quite honest, the marital arrangements of the grandson of our friend Oropher really have not held my attention… so. Until tomorrow, then. Unless you wanted to say hello to anyone, Fin?’

‘No, they all look very busy… let’s just go.’

Ecthelion nodded and put his arm around his husband, bidding Merlinith and Araspen farewell before turning to saunter back along the trail. He was not entirely sure whether to be relieved or anxious that his shining love didn’t want to spend time with his friends-from-before… 

‘I want to hear you play,’ Glorfindel said as they continued on. ‘I want to sit down with my back to a warm sand dune with you perched on the top of it, and listen to your flute dancing. It seems like ages since you played for me.’

‘It does, indeed,’ Thel agreed, although it had not been more than a handful of days at most, but it was sweet that Fin thought so. ‘Perhaps because we have been spending some of our music time listening to the music boxes instead. Of course, I have new tunes, now… if you wish?’

‘I don’t care, Thel. It’s just you, and the flute, and the music. Whatever you feel like playing.’

They made their way down to the shore and wandered along to one of Fin’s preferred spots amongst the dunes. At this time of day, the shorewards side of the dunes were still warm from the morning sun, and Fin settled with a sigh where he could look up at Thel, sitting on the crest of the dune with one leg dangling down.

‘You could sit next to me, my sunbeam, if you wished…?’

‘You always say that. But I like to watch you.’

‘What would you have…?’

‘You. Later, though. But not too much later. Just blow the thing!’

Thel smiled and moistened his lips.

‘Later, darling…’

Fin threw back his head and laughed, the light bouncing in his hair, so of course Ecthelion started with the simple little tune about sunshine, and from there moved on into a blend of recently-heard tunes and old songs, allowing his mood and the brightness of the day to inform his selections, shifting from melody to melody with easy freedom.

He watched Glorfindel as he played, smiling with his eyes when his mouth was busy shaping the notes, trying to read his beloved’s mood. For once, it was not obvious to Thel how his love was feeling… which was either good, as it meant there was nothing terribly wrong with Fin’s fëa at present, or bad, because it meant something was brewing…

Perhaps he worried too much, but Glorfindel could be so swift to fall into despondency sometimes, and Ecthelion would rather catch him on the way down than let him hit the depths and have to be pulled out his personal darkness…

But then Fin leaned in, resting his head against Thel’s thigh and smiling up at him, and all seemed well.

‘I suppose we should head home,’ he said when the currently melody drew to its close. ‘We must have been gone an hour…’

‘Longer, my light of joy. By the time we get back, it will be more like two. I hope we have not been too much missed by our guest…’

‘He’s been better, since crochet classes. Not quite as anxious if you leave him on his own for five minutes.’

But when they approached the villa, Lalbes was waiting on the step for them.

‘I am glad you are back, my lords, you have been asked for…’

‘Oh? Visitors, perhaps?’ Ecthelion asked mildly. ‘No? Well, thank you, Lalbes. May we have refreshments in the sitting room, please, when convenient? And Bruiven may serve, if you are busy.’

‘Thank you, my lord. I do have other matters on hand…’

Oropher appeared as soon as they entered the house, as if he’d been listening for their return.

‘There you are!’ he said. ‘I wanted to talk to you about… what was said. But you were not to be found!’

‘No; we went for a walk so I could play for Fin without disturbing you, Oropher. You said you were tired.’

‘I was. But I could not rest.’

‘We’re going through to sit down. Would you care to join us? I must put my flute away, but Fin will go with you…’

‘Your flute? You really were playing? You do not play for me, I note.’

‘I generally play most days, you know. Fin is kind enough to say he likes to listen.’

‘I do, I love Thel’s music,’ Fin said. ‘It’s just, well, we thought you’d want peace and quiet, not to be disturbed by our nonsense; Thel plays brilliantly, but sometimes I sing along… Come on, then.’

He smiled at Ecthelion and gestured Oropher to precede him into the sitting room.

‘The things said,’ Oropher began as soon as Fin had taken a seat. ‘That my wife did all that was needful for the kingdom, and then allowed herself to fade… I do not – did not – deserve such loyalty. When I left the Halls, they brought an elleth with a look of my son about her, but I did not acknowledge her… and now I cannot remember if it was that I remembered her or would not let myself…’

‘I’m sure you know what you mean, Oropher, old friend, but… bit vague here, sorry…’

Oropher gave a long-suffering sigh.

‘I had failed my subjects, I had failed my family. I considered I did not, do not deserve the loyalty and love they would offer. It was a part of my punishment that I did not see my queen while I was in the Halls… but… if she followed me for love, then… did I not punish her by not asking for her?’ Oropher stared at his hands, his fingers knotted together with tension. ‘How could I expect to be forgiven such behaviour? If I did not see her, did not know whom amongst them she was, then it would somehow be less cruel to her… and easier for me to accept my penance…’

‘Well, it’s your own fault,’ Fin said briskly. ‘Námo told you ages ago that you were free to go, you had atoned enough. But, no, you wouldn’t leave, you knew better than the Doomsman of the Valar…’

This drew a wraith of a smile.

‘…my point being, your queen died so she could be with you. Think about how long she’s been waiting, in the Halls, outside in the Undying Lands. Think about how you were together, before you got this huge guilt-thing to play with… do you really think you’re so important that it’s all your fault?’ 

‘When you phrase it in such a way… and yet…’

‘Oropher, you’d finished atoning long before you were finally coaxed out; if your wife hasn’t forgiven you, then it’s because she doesn’t see anything to forgive. Because that’s the thing, when you have a fëa-mate, when you marry your forever-love. Those who love us, they don’t just stop. They never stop caring, loving, forgiving. They don’t care what we did, Oropher, they just want us back so they can love us. And that… that’s hard, sometimes. You think you’ve got a lot to be forgiven for, well, just you get in line, I…’

He broke off and got to his feet, heading out of the room and almost colliding with Ecthelion in the doorway.

‘Did you hear that?’ Oropher asked as Thel stared after Glorfindel. ‘He says it is my fault…!’

‘But, Oropher, that is exactly what you have been saying, is it not? Glorfindel has merely – from what I can gather – demonstrated that your remorse is over the wrong subject.’

‘There are things I need to know, to… do you think Glorfindel is right?’

‘He quite often is, frequently to his own surprise.’

‘Then I should do something? But what? Ought I send for her, my wife? Or for my son? But I do not clearly remember, still, although some things are returning…’

‘Oropher, I understand you are currently in the midst of a crisis, but I rather fear that so is my husband. And, dear friend though you are, my first loyalties are to him. Excuse me.’

Inclining his head, he set off after Glorfindel, heading for the outer door and passing Bruiven on the way.

‘My lord, you wanted refreshments?’

‘In the sitting room, thank you. And later, I think we may need the hammock.’

With this pronouncement he hurried from the house to seek his husband.

 

 

.


	22. Hammock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Glorfindel needs soothing and Ecthelion brings forth the hammock...

There being a limited number of places Glorfindel made for when he was upset, it didn’t take long to track him down. As Thel had expected, Fin was sitting on a hay bale inside the goat shed, where he was combing Evil-Eyed El’s coat with utter focus. He glanced up when Thel entered.

‘I thought goat-pampering-day was tomorrow?’ Ecthelion said, taking a seat on an upturned bucket.

‘Well. He likes to have a bit of a fuss made.’

‘I am not surprised; I adore it when you style my hair…’

‘Oh, Thel, I…’

Ecthelion dragged his bucket closer.

‘Oropher is at last considering sending for his wife; your words have weight with him. Although at some cost to your own peace, I fear… I heard some of what was said, my golden love…’

‘I didn’t realise, as I was telling him, but suddenly it wasn’t about him and his wife any more, but how long you waited for me, waited there when you could have been outside in the sunlight, and…’

‘But you’re my sunlight.’ Thel leaned forward so his forehead was resting on Fin’s. ‘You are my sunshine; my only sunshine… you make me happy when skies are grey, remember? Other times too, of course.’

It drew a smile, but Glorfindel shook his head and eased back.

‘But, Thel, while I was away… Triwathon…’

‘My darling sunbeam, you did not do anything wrong, I wish you would believe me…’

‘It’s not that I don’t believe you, Thel, and, yes, you released me, but I still…’

‘You are more stubborn than our guest, I think.’ 

Glorfindel sighed.

‘The things I did…’

‘Saved the world from darkness? Protected those in your care? Healer and dragon-slayer, always brave, never shirking your duty…?’

‘No. The… the other things…’

Ecthelion nodded. The other things. It always came back to the other things.

‘And… you’re so good, Thel, you let me talk and talk about Triwathon but I’ve been saying the same things for ever and since he arrived, I realise they’re not enough any more, and I think… I think I haven’t been saying the right things… except they might be the wrong things…’

‘I see. My beloved, you can say anything you wish to me, if it will help you...’

‘I’ve told El, of course, he’s a good listener, for a goat… thing is, I’m sick of pretending, Thel…’

‘Oh?’ Ecthelion kept his voice curious, but fear roiled in his belly suddenly.

‘Pretending Triwathon didn’t really matter.’

‘I must say, beloved, I never had that impression from you.’

‘Ah, you know me better than I know myself, love… But I have been pretending, I was pretending to myself because, if he didn’t matter, then I didn’t betray our bond…’

‘I am glad Triwathon mattered,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Because you coming back to me despite him is the more special. In a way, I need him to have been important in your life, because it validates your love for me the more, do you not see? Had he been unimportant to you, it makes your return rather less consoling…’

‘What? No, love, no, Thel, I mean… He… I was so lonely, had been for so long, and I’d hadn’t… nobody, didn’t want to. But with Triwathon, he… and he’d suffered so much, I needed to help him. And in turn, he helped me; after the War of the Ring, I fell apart a bit. Wanted to come home to you, but Elrond wouldn’t let me sail… And I thought Triwathon was dead, there’d been no news… Then he turned up at Imladris; he’d been badly injured, still getting over it. Hadn’t seen him in decades, but it was just… I was a mess, and I needed someone… I’d even been thinking about fading… except I didn’t want to face you with my guilt. My… my unfaithfulness…’

‘Darling, you were not unfaithful,’ Ecthelion said gently. ‘I knew you would need someone to soften the hardships for you. That it was an individual who was in equal need was only right. But you parted company, he had outgrown you, I think you have said. Were you sad, then?’

‘There was no more I could do, except stand back and let him go. And at the time, I minded, I minded so much… but it wasn’t long before I was glad he’d gone. Thought I was, anyway. It felt like I’d outgrown him, too. That would have been it, I think. But then I started having these dreams and one day I woke up and… and there was Námo, sitting on the foot of my bed. “Up you get, sluggard!” he said. “Time for you to be a hero just once more. If you leave tomorrow, you can get there in time.” So in the morning, I packed up and set off and… well, big fight, dragon, hero’s death and I woke up in the Halls with you holding my hand.’ Fin shook his head. ‘I was never more glad to see anyone but… Oh, Thel, I keep thinking…’

‘Consider, if Lord Námo had not visited you, would you have thought to go to Triwathon’s garrison?’

‘No, of course not – I was sure I’d moved on…’

‘So you must have been meant to go, and not only to help defeat the dragon…’

‘Which I think they could have managed themselves, now I think of it… and I was aware, as I was dying… yes, Triwathon had mattered to me, but… suddenly, he didn’t. Not any more. And I realised; it really was over, I could go, find my way back to you.’ Glorfindel shook his head and Thel saw the glister of tears in his eyes. ‘I could face you and say, yes, this was it, but it’s finished and he doesn’t matter… but… I tried too hard to pretend he never had.’

‘Darling, it can only be helpful that finally you have had the courage to examine your feelings once more; it may hurt now, but in time you will feel better for it… I must admit, it was a little alarming when Triwathon finally arrived, knowing you had once been so much to each other…’

‘You see, Thel? You see why I didn’t want to say? Because it would only hurt you, and you don’t deserve to be hurt, except I know I have, oh, love…’

‘I doubt you will allow me to reiterate that it does not matter, that I am simply delighted that you are mine, I am yours, we are each other’s… but I do hope you will let me hold you?’

‘Thel, I don’t deserve…’

‘Hush. Please? It is not only for you; I need to hold you too, you know…’ 

He spread his arms and looked up at Fin with all the love he had for him showing in his face, allowing his eyes to fill with emotion and his full lips to part in a hint of a pout. It was a look that generally never failed, and Glorfindel shook his head before throwing himself into Thel’s embrace.

‘Thel, I love you, you know I do, I…’ His arms tightened around Ecthelion’s shoulders and he drew close. ‘I’m sorry, so sorry, I only ever wanted not to hurt you, if I haven’t said things, if I say things wrong, that’s why, that’s only why, and…’

Ecthelion snuggled in to the embrace, taking comfort as much as seeking to give it, Fin’s words balm to his fëa.

‘I know, my dear, I know. We are fëa-mates, married, of course I know you love me. I understand; it is what we seek to do, to protect each other. But, my Fin, my shining Fin, don’t ever feel you cannot say things to me; I will always hear you, and always love you.’

Glorfindel shuddered against him and Thel closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to assuage him.

‘Fin, my darling, sunflower, I am sure I have said before… we love many people in our lives; our parents, our siblings, sometimes. Our friends, on occasion…’ He broke off as their embrace was buffeted by Evil-Eyed El, bored with the lack of attention. ‘Yes, even our favourite goats, we love them also. And yet for all the many persons we care for, we have but one fëa-mate, one forever-love. There is no doubt that one can be married, and still love, for example, one’s parents… and no cause or need for jealously. My love, our bond is special, and wonderful, as wonderful as are you.’

In control of his emotions again, he eased from the closeness of the embrace to kiss Fin’s cheek lightly. 

‘Your friend El wants some attention,’ he said. ‘Why do you not spend a few minutes with him, and I will return to Oropher?’ 

‘Well, now,’ Fin said, giving a slow and heart-wrenchingly beautiful smile. ‘I think I might… since you won’t get jealous…’

Ecthelion laughed.

‘If you will help with my hair later, of course I will not!’

*

The remainder of the afternoon was spent listening to Oropher’s bewildered ramblings and half-formed memories, and Ecthelion was glad that Glorfindel was only a little while with his goats, and that Bruiven kept the drinks constantly refreshed. It did sound, however, as if the king was starting to connect his fragmented recollections together at last. He kept returning to the twin topics of his wife and his guilt with wearying regularity.

‘So do I send for her? Or go? Or… but there will be Silvans and I have not done well by them…’

Glorfindel shook his head, losing patience but trying not to show it.

‘You died for them, didn’t you? Really, Oropher, there’s nothing more you can do for people than to die for them; take it from me, I should know, I’ve done it twice! First time I didn’t have a choice, true…’

‘We all know about you and the Balrog, Glorfindel, even I remember hearing…’ Oropher began, but Ecthelion cut across him.

‘Fin? What do you mean, first time you didn’t have a choice – you imply the second time, you did?’

‘Well, yes.’ Glorfindel shrugged up a shoulder. ‘After the dragon. Námo did that thing of his, you know… you can stay or you can go, you choose… I said, whatever gets my back to my Thel faster…’

‘Darling! Whyever did you not say?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Felt a bit, well, shy, maybe…’

Oropher cleared his throat, and Fin hid a smile.

‘Sorry, Oropher. Yes, back to you… my point was, you died, Thranduil took over. Your Silvans don’t hold anything against you. They’d love for you to just wander back into camp, I’m sure.’

‘Indeed,’ Ecthelion said. ‘I am reasonably convinced, however, that your son would be rather alarmed… no, I think, if you wish to see your wife, write her a message… as soon as you can remember her name, that is. Otherwise you will simply cause her further distress, I fear.’

‘By name? Really so? You do not think it a good idea to contact her now?’

‘Not yet,’ Ecthelion said. ‘It may raise false hopes. And your memory is beginning to return. Allow yourself a little more time.’

‘Talking of time, Thel,’ Glorfindel said, ‘shouldn’t we be doing that… thing we said we needed to do…?’

‘Changing for dinner? Quite possibly. Oropher, if you do not mind us leaving you to your own devices, we will see you at supper, if not before.’

*

‘What did you have in mind, my glorious sunlight?’ Ecthelion asked as Fin secured the door to their suite behind them.

‘What you said, about how you like it when I do your hair…’

‘Oh?’ Ecthelion smiled and sat down on the wide bed. ‘Are you going to braid me?’

‘Only after I’ve unbraided you…’

‘That sounds delightful!’ Thel said, and shook out his hair. ‘Where do you want me?’

‘Where you are is fine.’

Glorfindel bounced onto the bed, causing the mattress to dip as he settled behind Thel, legs either side of his husband’s hips. He lifted the shining obsidian tresses and nuzzled behind Ecthelion’s ear, causing him to shiver. Delicate fingers released the braid clasps, tenderly unwound the plaiting, freeing the strands so that the raven’s wing hair tumbled free. Fin’s fingers moved downwards, unfastening tunic clasps, tugging Thel’s shirt free of his waistband and roaming his hands across the warm skin of Ecthelion’s belly. Ecthelion leaned back his head with a moan, wriggling to place himself more horizontally on the bed, Fin shifting his legs out of the way and getting busy with the rest of Ecthelion’s clothing.

‘Oh, you are so beautiful, my Ecthelion. My very own moonlight song.’

‘My light, you say the sweetest things. Of course, the moon reflects the light of the sun, so they say…’ Thel opened his eyes and lifted his head. ‘My dear one, you are still dressed…’

‘Not for long, love. Just… give me a moment.’

‘My darling, you may have several moments. But not too many; I am desperate to feel your mouth on mine…’

And not just on Thel’s mouth; Glorfindel spread himself across Ecthelion’s body and kissed him breathless, tongued his way down the column of his throat, lightly suckled and licked his nipples, slid his mouth down to linger over his navel and then fell on the hot promise of Thel’s urgent erection to tease with teeth and lips and hands, to thrill at the rise of his husband’s body, the knowledge that his mouth, his touch was drawing little cries and whimpers of desire from Ecthelion filling him with love and pride and the need to make this wonderful, perfect…

Thel’s gasps and moans came quicker, his body jumped and Glorfindel’s mouth filled with a rush of hot, sweet, salt. Ecthelion relaxed and, when Fin moved up the bed to take him in his arms, he snuggled in and sighed.

‘Wonderful,’ he said, ‘perfect, my Glorfindel, my love.’

Fin cuddled close, kissed his forehead.

‘Love you,’ he said. ‘And, Thel…’

He broke off as his husband’s clever fingers closed around his erection.

‘Thel, love, I wanted that to be for you, I’m fine…’

‘Indeed, beloved, you are very fine…’

‘No, but I…’

‘…I love to watch your eyes, you know, as your body responds to my touch. I love to see how moved you are… ah, how you fill my hand, how you feel… do you still wish for me to stop, beloved…? May I not indulge myself in the glory of your body?’

Glorfindel arched his back.

‘I… oh… no, no, if…’ He sighed and relaxed into Ecthelion’s touch. ‘Well… if you insist…’

*

Later, Ecthelion sat on the floor between Glorfindel’s knees and relaxed back under the deft ministrations of his fingers.

‘That feels… different,’ Thel said. ‘A new idea?’

‘A surprise. Almost done… Just thought it’d be nice… There. Want to see?’

Glorfindel pulled Thel to his feet and pushed him in front of the looking glass where they both stared at their reflections. Fin was smiling, hopeful, and Thel tilted his head to see how the light caught in the strands of tiny beads which had been woven amongst his braids; they glinted and glistened, black and silver and crystalline, contrasting with the silk of his hair.

‘Darling sunlight, what a lovely effect! Thank you… but…these are new?’

‘From Merlinith. I traded some of next shearing’s goat hair for a strand or two of glass beads she brought with her. She was delighted… as am I, at the result…’

‘But, beloved… the angora is your beer-money…’

‘Oh, who needs beer when they can look at you with sparkles in your hair?’ He smiled into Thel’s reflected eyes. ‘Anyway, it’s not all of it, just one fleece, only a couple of crates’ worth. I’ll just drink wine instead more often.’

Ecthelion laughed.

‘You have a contingency plan, how wise! Well, shall we go to supper?’

*

‘By the Valar, what have you done to your hair?’ Oropher demanded when Ecthelion took his place.

‘A gift from my husband; it looks rather fine, does it not? Possibly too good for a small family supper, but after all Fin’s efforts, I wanted to keep the style.’

‘That’s not what I’d meant,’ the king muttered. ‘Modern elves!’

‘Ah, well, we are hardly that! But perhaps, more so than you, dear friend.’

‘Over the seas in the east, it’s the Sixth Age now,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Although I still think in terms of the Third, myself.’

‘Whereas I did not even get that far,’ Ecthelion put in. ‘True, change is slow here, but yet, it happens.’

‘I am not sure I approve,’ Oropher said.

‘Then isn’t it lucky you’re our guests, and we’re not your subjects,’ Glorfindel said brightly. ‘More wine, anyone? And, Thel… is something happening outside…? Did you know?’

‘Indeed, my light, for I remembered Oropher expressed an interest in my playing and I thought, well, outside on the veranda as the daylight fades… and you know I like to be comfortable so I suggested Bruiven bring forth the hammock…’

‘That’s a lovely idea, Thel…! I do enjoy the hammock, I don’t know why we don’t leave it out all the time…’

Ecthelion smiled. For whatever reason, the swinging of a hammock seemed infinitely calming to Glorfindel’s fëa, and Fin’s earlier exchange with Oropher seemed to warrant intervention before his mood dipped too low; the subsequent discussions in the goat shed had only added to Thel’s concerns and although their hairdressing interlude had produced a beneficial effect, still he was a little concerned.

He did not, of course, voice any of these thoughts.

‘Because then I would never see you, beloved; you would spend all your time swinging and looking out to sea!’

‘I wouldn’t, really, I…’

‘Teasing,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Of course you would not, you would stir yourself at least once a week, to oil Evil-Eyed El’s horns for him…’

‘Really, is this how you always proceed?’ Oropher asked. ‘I do not remember such exchanges in the Halls…!’

‘Well, those were special circumstances,’ Ecthelion said. ‘We were all guests. But this is home, and we are free here to choose our own lifestyle.’

Oropher shook his head.

‘It was not so in the Greenwood; I remember the glory of the caverns, the formality of the Great Hall where we would gather… you would not know it, of course, but it was magnificent…’

‘I was there a few times, in fact,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Back in Thranduil’s day, that is. I must agree, considering they were caves, they did make quite a nice place to live…’

‘Considering they were caves…? In fact, the halls were magnificent, reminiscent of Menegroth in its glory… we used them mostly in times of uncertainty…’

Yes, Ecthelion mused as Oropher sang the praises of his long-lost halls, the memory was returning. It could only be a good thing; Fin had been getting a look about him that suggested he was eager for the household to return to what passed for normal…

Judicious questioning as the meal drew to a close drew out more memories of friends and family, anecdotes of days spent in peacetime – for always Fin and Thel steered Oropher away from thoughts of the war – but with a sigh, Oropher fell silent.

‘No. I can remember her favourite foods, the colour of her best cloak, but… not her name.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Ecthelion said. ‘You have remembered much. Now, I will fetch my vessel flute, and you may both join me on the seaward veranda whenever you are ready.’

*

Fin got there first, throwing himself into the hammock with a whoop of joy and immediately getting tangled amongst the throws and cushions with which it was lined. Thel shook his head and helped. 

‘Now, we will utterly shock our dear, prudish friend if we attempt to cuddle, so put your feet to the side, my light, that’s it, and we will face each other with perfect decorum… you see, if Oropher takes the seat by the table, neither of us will have our backs to him and it looks quite sociable…’

‘As long as he doesn’t ask me to shove up and make room for him…’

‘I do not think we need worry; after all, we have established his interest was simply down to everything being new, and interesting… now, do stop wriggling, sweet one, you’ll tip us onto the floor!’

The hammock was easily wide enough for the two of them, and long enough that they could stretch out opposite one another with comfort. Disaster being avoided, they were soon settled, Fin’s bare feet on a cushion tucked alongside Thel’s thigh, Ecthelion’s booted feet crossed at the ankles and lying to the side of Glorfindel’s hip.

‘Must you leave your boots on, love?’

‘Ah, if we were both barefoot, it might make Oropher complain we are too informal…’

‘Wasn’t like this when Rog came to stay, was it?’

‘Well, Rog brought a friend with him, if you remember; they enjoyed their privacy as much as we did ours… Ah, here is our friend. Have a seat, Oropher.’

‘I am curious, Ecthelion; how are you going to manage a flute whilst reclining?’

‘I’m playing this little thing tonight.’ Ecthelion held up his vessel flute. It was a cushion-shaped object a little larger than the palm of his hand, made of ceramic and with a series of holes punched into it. ‘It is not as loud as other instruments, and I thought it would be a pleasant change. Feel free to sing along, if you know any of the tunes…’

‘Sing along! Hardly!’

‘Glorfindel does, on occasion. Have you both everything you need?’

‘Just a moment,’ Fin said, reaching for a rope that connected the hammock through a loop to one of the veranda posts. This rope he pulled gently and the hammock began swinging gently from side to side. ‘That’s just about perfect,’ he said. ‘When you’re ready, Thel.’

‘Good, then I shall start…’

He began to blow into the vessel flute, his fingers moving over the holes, beginning with a simple tune that ran up and down, breathy and soft and lilting. He toyed with the fingering, building on the melody, filling the veranda with soft sounds.

Glorfindel wriggled more deeply into the cushions and smiled, letting the music drift over him. There were some of the new tunes he’d come to love; the sunshine song, a simplified version of the moonlight melody, one blending into another and leading on to some of the old drinking songs they both knew from Gondolin; he hummed along softly, but kept his voice low.

From drinking songs Thel turned to other old melodies, fitting in songs he’d learned since leaving the halls and one or two he’d picked up from the Silvan camp. To his surprise, as he was playing a simple tune, a lullaby, he’d been told it was, an unexpected baritone joined in with words…

_‘Go rain on the pine trees far away  
And leave us oaks in the green to play…’ _

At the end of the song, Ecthelion drew his music to a close.

‘Nicely done, Oropher!’ he said. ‘Are there any other songs you know?’

‘Not that come to mind… that one, though. Used to be they were forever singing that around the nursery… Ah, well. I will leave you to your pleasant twitterings, my friends. It is odd, but I must confess to being less impressed than I had expected to be… Goodnight.

Ecthelion stared open-mouthed as Oropher returned to the house.

‘You know, Thel, I’m not entirely sure, but I think your playing was just royally insulted…’

‘Oh, beloved sunlight, I am quite sure… Ah, me! Well, at least he recognised one of the tunes…’

‘And we’ve got the veranda to ourselves…’ Glorfindel pulled Thel’s boots off, dropping them over the side of the hammock, and then set them rocking as he rearranged himself to align with Thel and cuddle in against him. He reached over and pulled the free edge of the throw lining the hammock across them both and began slowly tugging on the rope to set up a gentle rocking. ‘There. Isn’t that nice?’

‘Beloved, it is entirely perfect!’ Thel said, relieved that Fin’s earlier dip in spirits was still in abeyance. ‘Will we stay here all night, do you think?’

‘Depends how cold it gets. Of course, we could just huddle together for warmth…’

They lay twined together, cuddling, snuggling, until the sky’s darkness had deepened and paled as the moon soared up over the villa. Fin broke the easy silence first.

‘Let’s go to bed properly, love,’ he said. ‘We’ve both got too many clothes on. Besides, we can still huddle together for warmth indoors. And the skylight will give us a fine view of the moon.’

‘It sounds rather a fine end to the day.’


	23. Returning Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oropher has a breakthrough, and more than one elf has a paddle...

The Silvan ladies arrived after breakfast next morning as expected, but Araspen asked for a private word with Ecthelion before she would follow Merlinith through to the sitting room where they generally held their crochet sessions.

‘For after yesterday, how things ended, with Lord Oropher leaving us so suddenly…’

‘Of course, as one might expect, there were repercussions… no, do not look so anxious; of a positive sort. Our old friend has started to gather his lost memories, and so let us be hopeful of more progress in due course.’

‘I hope so,’ Araspen said, ‘for of course, as you know we are expected tell to our king how his father is progressing; he says that he is not sure you realise how eager he is to be reunited with Lord Oropher and it seems your request to be allowed to proceed in private chafes him…’

‘I do not know the Elvenking well, but in general, yes, I have found rulers to be impatient when their will is crossed. Even we elves, who claim to have endless patience... In all truth, I am a little surprised that your Thranduil has not attempted to storm our gates, as it were, and arrive unannounced and determined on the veranda…’

‘In fact, an uninvited visit has been mentioned,’ Araspen said in confiding tones. ‘And it has taken the joint efforts of all Nestoril’s powers of persuasion, and my Merlinith’s insisting that anyone who interrupts her craft sessions will be expected to participate, to prevent just such an occurrence. So perhaps I need to warn you that time is running short…’

‘Ah. I would dearly love to see the Elvenking wielding a crochet hook! It is tempting to say, he may have his father back, and welcome… yet, if he wants him in any degree restored, perhaps now is not the time to rush matters; I feel we are close to a breakthrough; our loyalties, Araspen, are with what is best for our old friend. Yours, perhaps, I can imagine could be more divided…’

‘Oh, for me, it is simple; I support my fëa-mate and carry the crochet hooks.’ She smiled as she said it. ‘I was not sure, you know, if we should come today… but Merlinith pointed out that if we did not, then Thranduil certainly would.’

‘My thanks, then for the warning. I will discuss it with Glorfindel privately and see what he thinks; he knew Oropher during your king’s lifetime; I have only knowledge of his fëa in the Halls and a few days’ acquaintance now. So. Shall we go through to the sitting room? Glorfindel promised to wait there with Oropher, but I know my husband will be chafing to get to his day’s work; it is goat-day again and I, alas, have promised to assist him.’

Indeed, when Ecthelion followed Araspen into the sitting room, Glorfindel jumped up from his chair with alacrity.

‘There you are, Araspen!’ he said. ‘Oropher’s eager to make a start, he says he’s got something special he wants to work on this morning. Won’t say what, but he’s rummaging for all the bright colours today…’

‘I do like that shade of blue,’ Araspen said with approval in her soft voice, looking at Oropher’s selected yarns. ‘It will go well with the green, and be an interesting contrast with the orange…’

‘Just a thought I had,’ the old king said. ‘I may need your expertise, however, later on.’

‘Well, if it’s secret, we’d better let you get on,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Hadn’t we, Thel?’

‘Perhaps we should. If you need us, send to the paddock. We will be there most of the morning, I think.’

*

‘What did Araspen want to say to you?’ Fin asked as they set off towards the field. ‘Is anything up?’

‘Potentially. Thranduil grows eager for sight of his father.’

‘Ah. Had a feeling it wouldn’t be long.’

‘How was the meeting between Merlinith and Oropher? Were there any awkwardnesses?’

‘No, not really. Very polite to each other for a few moments, soon settled down though. Bruiven and Lalbes will keep an eye on things, though. Now. Do you mind if I fill the wash tub from the fountain? It’s a lot nearer for carrying…’

*

It was an entertaining way to spend the morning, if one were easily entertained. Fin was in his element, fussing over the billy, and Thel was perfectly happy watching Fin enjoy himself. Once Evil-Eyed El was properly washed and groomed, he was sent off to get messy again and the nannies had their turn. Several of these had the long, silken coats that was so coveted for the yarns used in garment making and when Thel asked, Fin pointed out which one he was setting aside for Merlinith.

‘I thought Princess Idril’s fleece. It’s a nice colour.’

‘It still seems an extraordinarily generous exchange to me…’

‘Ah, but when I saw those beads glistening in your hair, Thel, it made me want to weep, it looked so lovely…! Worth two fleeces, but don’t tell ‘linith…’

Ecthelion smiled, but shook his head.

‘And you say you are not romantic, beloved sunlight!’

‘Well, I want to be. It’s just sometimes, there aren’t the words for you, love. None of them are good enough. Now, Other Beruthiel is finished, let’s have Gassy Galadriel next…’

‘And that would be…?’

‘The one over there, with the slightly confused expression and the big belly. Lovely girl she is, she’ll be dropping her kid soon, might even be twins…’

Gassy Galadriel having been properly and lovingly spruced up, Fin was just about to reach for the last of the nannies when a shout from the house halted him.

Oropher was proceeding towards them at a very swift walk, Araspen following behind, Merlinith after her, both ellith gesturing and exclaiming, apparently trying to calm the king who was calling out somewhat indistinctly.

Thel and Fin made their way towards him, Fin carefully latching the paddock after him.

‘Erymes!’ Oropher exclaimed, coming to a halt. ‘My wife’s name is Erymes! She liked to go black-berrying in season, even though we had servants to do that for us. It was not the same, she said... her fingers would be stained purple and red from the juice… And that ridiculous song from last night, she would sing it to our son! I have remembered, mellyn-nin, my past has begun to come back to me!’ Oropher faltered and continued in a rather smaller voice. ‘Only… what now?’

‘I suggest we return to the house and discuss it there,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Fin, if you can finish fussing your goats later, that is?’

‘That’s a fine idea, Thel; it’s nearly time to eat, anyway. Good news there, Oropher. We could probably do with a drink to celebrate.’

‘We should send for her,’ Oropher said. ‘For Erymes. She should join us.’

‘All in good time, my friend,’ Ecthelion said, leading the way back to the house.

‘Why? Do you seek to prevent our reunion? Why would you do so?’

‘Not at all. But consider; so sudden a summons might cause more alarm than relief. No, if you will accept my advice, write a note which Merlinith and Araspen can carry back to the camp. Arrangements can then be made…’

‘Arrangements!’ Oropher gestured impatiently. ‘What manner of arrangements? Surely it is unnecessary? Surely…’

‘Come and sit down,’ Merlinith said. ‘I think Mistress Lalbes is ready to serve the day meal. Wouldn’t it be nice, don’t you think, if your wife and son were to come to supper?’

Behind Oropher’s back, Glorfindel shook his head and mouthed a negative, making Araspen stifle a giggle. Merlinith caught Fin’s expression and looked an apology at Ecthelion who bit back a sigh.

‘An excellent suggestion,’ he said smoothly. ‘It would give all parties a few hours to properly assimilate this wonderful turn of events. Cook can bring forth her skills – we eat so simply she feels we do not fully appreciate her considerable talents – and it will be a pleasure to meet your queen, Oropher. No doubt other persons besides your son will wish to be present, so perhaps we need to consult with the staff to see how many guests can be invited and still be properly served…’

‘Oh, servants! You should know better than to ask servants anything, Ecthelion, just tell them! That’s how I used to do it, in the Greenwood.’

‘Yes, well, as you have noted already on more than one occasion, this is not the Greenwood. Now, come. Ah, Bruiven – we have cause for celebration, so if you will breech a bottle of that rather fine Elderflower champagne for with the meal, thank you.’

By the time Araspen and Merlinith were ready to leave, most of the details had been arranged and Oropher had written a letter to his queen. Ecthelion had also penned a message, suggesting that, while, of course, her majesty was welcome to dine with them that evening, at such short notice it would not be possible for more than herself and two others to join her, while tomorrow evening would give scope for rather more guests…

‘But, Thel…’ Glorfindel protested once they had waved the ladies off. ‘More company?’

‘I know, my beloved light, I know.’ Ecthelion sighed. ‘But consider; the sooner our friend is reunited with his wife, the more swiftly he will depart. And then…’

‘And then we’ll have the place to ourselves again. Lovely.’

Ecthelion forbore from pointing out that it had been Glorfindel’s suggestion that Oropher stay with them, but smiled up at his husband.

‘I have a thought. Once you have finished with your goats, I will collect my flute, and you can bring some rugs and beer, and we will go for a walk; if Oropher comes seeking us, he will look along the beach, so if we head inland…’

‘Thel, that’s a fine idea! And there’s that lovely little stream about an hour’s amble away… I might not be able to swim, but I can paddle!’

‘Of course, it could be considered unfeeling to leave our guest alone at such a momentous juncture…’

‘Or kind of us, to let him have a bit of peace and quiet to think about things. I’ll go and tidy Bossy Celebrian and then have a word with Lalbes…’

*

An afternoon spent amongst the hills where their flock of sheep roamed, Thel playing his flute and Fin splashing in the shallows of the stream made a pleasant change from the beach. The light was less bright here, freckling off the stream and caressing the green grass, but had a softer, more mellow quality. 

Ecthelion loved the difference in both their surroundings and in his husband’s mood. Fin in the sea was always exuberant, lively; here he was calmer, mellower, watching the water drift over his feet, sitting on the bank to dangle his legs, taking advantage of the solitude, and the rugs they’d brought, to coax Thel into making lazy love with only the distant bleating of sheep a reminder that there were other living things around them.

‘I love this solitude, Thel,’ he said afterwards, cuddling. ‘Knowing there’s just us between here and the harbour town.’

‘Then you would not be delighted at the thought of gaining neighbours, beloved?’

‘What? No – who? And…’

‘It may never happen. But Merlinith was saying some of the newly-arrived Silvans do not relish the thought of burying themselves in Lord Oromë’s forests. They argue they have lived in a much less-wooded land, and need to adapt. Moreover, it seems Lord Oromë is not entirely happy at the sheer volume of possessions they wish to take with them. Nobody wishes to become estranged from the Huntsman’s good will, so it is likely some will wish to settle nearby in the short term, at least.’

‘Well, we don’t own the land… we’d just have to get used to it, I suppose. Or move somewhere else.’ Fin sighed. ‘But I love our villa, all our views, and the staff mightn’t like having a longer walk to work… As long as we don’t have to do the social thing… could we ask Lord Ulmo to turn us into an island, do you think? Maybe with a causeway to use at low tide, but otherwise to cut us off…?’

‘Beloved, we can be as reclusive as you wish, but that might be going to extremes just a little…’ Thel said; privately he had often wondered whether a little more company might not be good for his husband. ‘Besides, all the land between here and the harbour is either for public use, or is allotted to our requirements. Any neighbours would not be near neighbours, and would either be some way along the coast, or in the hinterlands. I hate to spoil the mood – this afternoon has been a lovely change – but better you know now, perhaps, than have it sprung on you when, may the Valar save us, Merlinith knocks on the door asking for a jug of milk to tide her over until tomorrow…’

Fin laughed.

‘Now, Merlinith and Araspen, they’d be all right to have next door, I think. At least they wouldn’t be flirting with you all the time…’

‘Oh, and who would wish to flirt with me when there is you to look at?’

‘Anyone. Everyone with any intelligence; the thinking elf’s secret fantasy, you are.’

Ecthelion laughed.

‘My goldenrod, how terribly flattering! But as long as am I your fantasy, that is all I need.’

‘You’re more than that, Thel, love.’ Glorfindel grew serious again. ‘You’re my reality. Sometimes it feels like all I am is stories and songs, and you save me from that. You make me real, I couldn’t survive without you.’

‘Beloved…’

‘Wouldn’t want to, anyway. So, have we time for more cuddling, that is, a cuddle with everything, before we head home?’

‘It depends how long you want to spend in the bathing pool when we return.’

‘Decisions, decisions…’ Glorfindel grinned and rolled on top of his husband. ‘Now. An everything cuddle with extra kissing, and we can always hurry back, if it looks like we’ll be late…’

*

Mistress Lalbes was not only waiting for them, but stalked out of the house to meet them.

‘Where have you been, my lords? There has been a positive parade of visitors this afternoon, and there we were thinking you would have gone to the beach, we even sent some of them after you and now you return without them…!’

‘We didn’t go swimming today, Lalbes… didn’t I say, we weren’t going to swim…?’

‘I am fairly sure you did not, my lord Glorfindel! There are several notes, I will give them to your husband, if you please, although, my lord Ecthelion, I am not sure you are not as bad…’

‘My apologies, Mistress Lalbes, if you have been overwhelmed…’

‘I do not like to send people to the beach after you, well, I know you like your private time and also that sometimes Lord Glorfindel does not have appropriate swimming clothes, but on this occasion…’

Fin laughed. ‘That’s why we went off into the hills today! So, what’s happened? Who was here?’

‘The first time, Commander Triwathon and the advisor Master Parvon. They left this note… second time was that Silvan in female attire and the big, rough-looking one… they brought another note… here… and they went along the beach looking for you, not so long ago.’

‘And how is our house guest?’

‘He has spent most of the afternoon writing down his thoughts and and drinking in the balcony room; my Bruiven took the liberty of watering down the red he asked for with blackcurrant cordial, we told him it was one of the fruit wines and all we could serve outside of mealtimes…’

‘That was well done of you both… let me see these missives… if there is anyone to spare, could someone go after Thiriston and Canadion?’

‘Possibly… is Lord Glorfindel busy, at the moment…?’

‘Yes, Lalbes, yes I am!’ Glorfindel said swiftly, edging away. ‘I have… things… an elsewhere to be… and I am going there right away…’

‘Let me assist you,’ Ecthelion said, following his husband into the house.

‘My lords…! And Cook is having a fit…’

‘Well, hadn’t you better go and see she’s all right?’ Glorfindel called back just before fastening the bedroom door behind Thel. ‘Poor Lalbes! I shouldn’t tease her!’

‘No indeed, for she will repay you many times over…’

‘Maybe we shouldn’t have run away this afternoon…’

Ecthelion was certain of it, had known at the time that absconding with Glorfindel was hardly behaviour befitting events of the morning… but Fin had needed a little bit of time, and it did not matter that there were kings involved, Thel would always put his beloved’s well-being first.

‘Perhaps not – poor Lalbes! We really do take the most extraordinary liberties with her good nature… ah, now… listen to this…’

The first note was a message to say how gladly the news of Oropher’s returned memory had made those privy to it, and yes, of course Thranduil recognised the need to keep numbers of visitors to a minimum. 

‘…Except Thranduil now says it will be himself and his wife with Queen Erymes, then Parvon and Triwathon wish to attend, and for the look of the thing they need an escort, so will bring Canadion and Thiriston… and Legolas and Govon will be coming, too… and should not Araspen and Merlinith attend, as Oropher is used to them… dearest, what do you think?’

‘I think I’d like to see Thranduil tell Lalbes himself! And can I go and sit with my goats?’

‘Only if I can join you there. No. No, I do not see why so many need to attend… I shall write back that if so many are to dine together, he should host the meal, for surely there are more coming than remaining at the camp! My light, I do not believe I shall have time to join you in the pool, I will need to speak with Thiriston and Canadion directly, I think…’

‘Or put supper back half an hour and I’ll wait a bit for you? What do you say?’

‘I say put it back by an hour, there is time for Cook to calm herself and produce wonders, it will also make it seem more as if we have made an effort… If we’re hungry, we can raid the pantry. Very well. I will return as soon as I may.’

The interview with Mistress Lalbes was not easy.

‘This Thranduil person wants to bring how many others with him? And has he thought of the effect so many visitors at once will have on his father? I do not say, on Lord Glorfindel, because obviously one cannot expect a king to consider anyone outside his own circle, but really, my lord Ecthelion, you know so many people won’t be good for him; he needs his peace and quiet – which is why I did not scold you more for running off this afternoon, but honestly, what are we meant to do with all these… persons? Cook can manage, but why should poor Lord Glorfindel have so many persons all chattering around him at once…’

‘I intend suggesting Thranduil limit his company to family only. It should reduce numbers at least a little…’

‘I don’t suppose anyone’s thought to ask Lord Oropher what he wants, have they?’

‘I have read the messages and come straight to you; it is not as if I have had the chance…!’ 

Ecthelion tried his appealing-helpless-hapless-ellon face, but it didn’t seem to work; Lalbes sniffed at him.

‘Then again, the best way with kings, my lord, is not to ask, them, but to tell them,’ she said. ‘So you go and tell this younger king that he needs to think about what he wants to achieve, here. Oh, and don’t forget to find those Silvans…!’

‘Indeed, Mistress Lalbes, for I hope they will carry word back to their king and save one of the household from having to do so for me…’

He smiled vaguely and escaped to write a swift reply to the Elvenking offering, he hoped, a reasonable compromise before folding it up and heading towards the beach in search of Commanders Thiriston and Canadion.

He found them just a short way along the shoreline, Canadion having discarded his footwear, lifted the hems of his calf-length dress, and gone for a paddle in the tide, leaving Thiriston seated on the beach watching him… the similarities, and differences, between the Silvan couple and himself and Glorfindel made him smile.

‘Well met,’ he called out before approaching and lowering himself gracefully to the sand at a little distance from Thiriston. ‘I have spent countless hours sitting watching my own husband swim and play in the sea; he never tires of it.’

‘Lord Ecthelion. Yes, think we’re going to have to settle near the sea. Somewhere with good paths, or else all his shoes’ll be ruined in no time… Is there room here?’

‘In Valinor there is always room. There are some lovely beaches on the other side of the town, on the way to the forests of Oromë. Or beyond the headland, there, but it is rather remote unless you wished to be self-sufficient. And a long way from other Silvans with only us for company, I am not entirely sure if we would be suitable as neighbours.’ 

Thiriston thought for a moment. ‘We’re intruding. Sorry.’

‘Not at all,’ Ecthelion said politely. ‘Glorfindel and I do not frequently have much company. It is true that we settled here for privacy as much as for proximity to the sea and views of arriving ships, but we are not entirely reclusive.’

‘Used to find it hard, myself,’ Thiriston said. ‘Sometimes. Too many people. Feels threatening, even if it’s your friends.’

‘Indeed,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Once one has been at war, it is difficult to see a crowd of people and not remember being in the press of battle.’

‘Yes, that’s it! Took a while to shake that off. Your Glorfindel still gets… they have term for it now, post-traumatic stress, I suppose. It means… you can’t forget things like you should. Or like you want to. Some things you really shouldn’t forget but… it’s hard to live with. Our king – Oropher – is he well?’

‘He is better than he was,’ Ecthelion said.

‘Would love to see him again. Just to see him. It’s odd, meeting people you knew were dead, but he was my first king…. Well. We brought you a message. Thranduil wanted us to stress, he really wants everyone he mentioned to be there.’

‘Ah. Yes, I read it; your Elvenking has obviously no idea how large our dining room is or how little formal entertaining we do these days… we should hire a room at the inn, perhaps, and caterers…’

Thiriston chuckled.

‘Picnic on the beach, perhaps? Bring your own blankets? Spread out a bit more that way.’

‘There, I knew you would understand.’

In the waves, Canadion gathered his skirts and waded from the tide.

‘Lord Ecthelion, how lovely to see you! The water is wonderful…!’

‘As are your shoes,’ Ecthelion said, gesturing to the wedge-heeled sandals set neatly together on the sand. ‘They will chafe, however, if you put them on without first washing the sand from your feet. If you would both care to come to the house, you may make use of the facilities there.’

‘You are very kind, but… but we brought a message and our king wishes an answer as soon as possible…’

‘But Glorfindel and I were from home when you arrived and I believe I have left my reply to his note in the house, so you would need to come back with me anyway…’ Ecthelion smiled. ‘I cannot promise that Lord Oropher will be present, but…’

‘Will say thank you, nice idea,’ Thiriston said, getting to his feet. ‘Wouldn’t want Canadion’s shoes to rub; I’d have to carry him all the way back and that’d delay us longer.’

‘Follow me, then. And you will stay for drinks, I hope…?’


	24. Erymes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, eventually, the dinner guests arrive...

It wasn’t long before Glorfindel decided waiting for Thel wasn’t going to be much fun, especially as it was likely he’d be a while and could perhaps even be bringing people back with him…

After wandering around the suite for a while looking glumly at the empty bathing pool, Fin sighed and left their suite, intending to sit on the veranda and watch for Thel’s return, but a voice from above diverted him.

‘Glorfindel? I have the strangest view from the balcony… whatever is going on outside?’

‘No idea,’ Fin replied, bounding up the stairs and leaning out of the landing window, craning his neck. He had a fine view of Oropher, on the balcony, and following the direction of his gaze saw Ecthelion, followed by Thiriston who was carrying Canadion in his arms. ‘Oh. You mean Thel and his friends? Well, they were my friends first, really…’

Oropher came to join him and stare out at the approaching figures.

‘Is that an ellon being carried? What is wrong with him?’

‘Not sure… he’s barefoot… maybe his shoes aren’t suitable for the dunes, he does have some interesting footwear, not suitable for walking on sand, though…’ Fin turned away to descend the staircase, calling for Lalbes to please serve cold drinks for the party. ‘Do you feel up to being introduced? Only I know Thiriston remembers you…’

‘Ah, another Silvan I have disappointed…’

‘What? No, the way he talks of you, you’re his hero… well. Those two are heroes themselves, from the stories. Canadion saved Thranduil from dragon fire – smothered the flames and burned himself in the process. I know that for a fact, I happened to be in the area at the time. But the pair of them have kept him safe through all sorts of battles. Lately, so I hear, they spent their time stealing back Starlight Gemstones from the humans to bring them back here…’

‘Really? These two?’

‘Yes, these two! Be nice, now, Oropher! Friends of mine, remember?’

‘Oh, I suppose… am I likely to have known either of them, perchance?’

‘Yes,’ Glorfindel said with some force. ‘Yes, Thiriston was at Dagorlad and he saw… more than he wanted to, I think. Anyway. Try to remember; it would mean a lot to him.’

*

Oropher presented himself on the veranda in perfect time for the arrival of Ecthelion and the Silvans. For a moment it looked as if the big elf would drop the ellon in his arms, but although he gasped audibly, he was controlled enough to set his companion down on the ground before dropping into the proper obeisance, head bowed. Following his lead, Canadion, too, bowed… and Ecthelion was rather glad, he realised, that Canadion hadn’t just curtseyed…

On the veranda, Glorfindel was grinning, and gave Oropher a nudge.

‘Wh…? Ah. Rise, Silvans, approach… we thank you for the honour of your bows, but we are not on ceremony here…’

‘Oh, my king!’ Thiriston said as he stood up. ‘I cannot… to see you whole, healed… it is much…’

Oropher descended one or two of the steps, to halt just a little higher than they.

‘You are… Captain Thiriston?’

‘I was but a lieutenant, sire, in your day…’

‘Ah. And now? Your uniforms have altered somewhat and there is no insignia…’

‘I understand both Canadion and Thiriston are now commanders,’ Ecthelion supplied.

‘Thank you. So… the fourth company?’ 

Oropher was guessing, Ecthelion assumed, but Thiriston nodded.

‘Yes, my king, for a time, guard duties around the barracks when I was new to the company. And later, the Ninth, where I had the honour of riding with you…’

There was something, a determination not to mind being forgotten, around Thiriston’s eyes, that made Ecthelion feel for him… it was not as if the Commander was just like any another elf to look at, besides…

Oropher was frowning.

‘Was your nose always so bent? Or did it have but one turn, in the day?’

Thiriston grinned. ‘Aye, my king, the second break was after. On the way home.’

‘I see. Your weapon of choice…?’

‘Knives, sire.’

‘Knives… no, I do not remember…’

Thiriston’s shoulders sagged and Canadion shifted towards him.

‘…throwing, though,’ Oropher went on. ‘An axe? Did you not have an axe?’

‘Yes, my king, indeed, one I got many years before, trading, and…’

‘…tallest Dwarf in Arda, and many Dwarves prettier, they would say. But I remember your axe felled many an enemy. It was well done of you.’

Nodding, the big elf grinned.

‘That was me, my king.’

‘And your companion, I do not think I know… him?’

‘Commander Canadion, your majesty, and no, I am closer to Prince Legolas in age than to my husband, and I know of you only through tales and history and it is such an honour to meet you, finally…’

‘Hmm…’ Oropher said.

‘Oh, and in case you were wondering – for I am often asked – I have taken to wearing female attire as a statement of my individuality in a society which for too long has attempted to categorise the and repress the free spirit and as an expression of my personal power. Besides which, it really annoys the Noldor. Sire.’

‘Not to mention that it’s a shame to hide his lovely shoes beneath leggings all the time,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Oropher, if you’ve done interrogating my friends, we have business in the house.’

‘Of course. Well met, mellyn-nin. Thank you for your service in the past, Thiriston.’

Thiriston bowed and picked Canadion up once more. 

Thel led the way to the back of the house where the tub Fin had used that morning was currently sat draining.

‘Oh… your household is very perceptive!’ Canadion exclaimed.

‘Not at all; Fin was using that earlier to wash the goats’ feet in. Do come through… Mistress Lalbes? Ah, there you are. My friend Canadion will need to use the washroom to get the sand off his feet…’

‘I don’t mind using the goat’s washtub, really, Mistress Lalbes…’

‘That would not be at all befitting for friends of my lords Ecthelion and Glorfindel! This way, if you will. Lord Glorfindel has requested drinks, shall Bruiven fetch them, my lord?’

‘Please, or whomever is free… the garden, I think.’

‘Thel?’ Fin came through from the front of the house. ‘There you are – was keeping Oropher out of trouble, suddenly he decided he needed to go to the veranda to meet people. Thiriston, well met. Are you coming through?’

‘Got my arms full of Canadion; if I put him down, going to get sand all over the floors.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that, it’s easily swept up,’ Glorfindel said, earning himself a sniff from Lalbes. ‘Well… that is…’

‘When you are ready, join us in the garden near the fountain,’ Ecthelion said. ‘I will look out that letter for you.’

*

Oropher did not join them, to Ecthelion’s private relief and Thiriston’s disappointment. Nor did Canadion seem to mind the old king’s absence quite as much as his husband.

‘So that is the famed King Oropher! Well, one can see where Thranduil got his manners from!’

‘He is rather formal, I suppose,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Nor can he look at a Silvan, yet, without feeling guilty.’

‘He didn’t do anything except try to protect us,’ Thiriston said. ‘Glorfindel, have to ask. Did he remember, or did you help?’

‘I told him your names, and how you’d helped Thranduil. Nothing else, I promise; and he did recall the name of your company.’

‘Well. Everyone used to take a turn in the Fourth, was standard. But then, he remembered the axe.’

‘You see?’ Canadion said, hugging at Thiriston’s arm. ‘He did know you! Though I think it might be better not to be remembered by King Oropher, sometimes… he has quite a look about him!’

‘He was in the Halls for rather a long time,’ Ecthelion said, ‘and has only just remembered the name of his queen; do not be downhearted.’

‘True. And there were thousands of us following him, only one of him for us to remember. Can’t really expect more.’ Thiriston drained his glass. ‘Well. We were sent on an errand…’

‘Yes; here is my written reply. If you would stress that a large number of guests is not a good idea…’

‘Between us, Master Parvon tried to talk himself and Triwathon out of the party,’ Thiriston said. ‘Too much for them to do in the camp...’

‘And, really, I am not sure what use they might be,’ Ecthelion said, trying his best to sound casually disinterested. ‘Fin, I think you said they were both much younger than the king?’

‘Than both kings, in fact. No, I agree with you,’ Glorfindel said. ‘We don’t need them here, we certainly don’t want them… that is, any extra people, he’s still a bit… well, doesn’t always realise what he’s doing. Or wearing. Or saying…’

‘Oropher can, in fact, be quite abominably rude,’ Ecthelion said. ‘For which, perhaps, his long stay in the Halls can be blamed. Although I hear he did always have a certain abruptness of manner…’

‘That’s true,’ Thiriston said with a grin. ‘Thranduil at his worst was never as fierce as our first king when the mood was on him.’ He picked up the letter. ‘Will make sure it’s known that too many people won’t be welcome. And thank you for the drinks.’

‘Oh, you are welcome. Those really are lovely shoes, Canadion!’

‘Thank you! And quite comfortable, really. So, we will bid you good day, Glorfindel, Ecthelion, and hope all goes well tonight.’

*

A curt note came back an hour later saying that Thranduil had already excluded his two eldest sons from the meeting, along with his second son’s wife and his own grandson, and did not wish his father to think himself not properly honoured by having so few persons come to visit him but that, on reflection, perhaps it might be better not to overwhelm the household, which obviously was not able to cope with the requirements of even so modest a number of dinner guests. 

Ecthelion showed the missive to Glorfindel who laughed and shook his head.

‘Ai, Thel! Better not leave that where Mistress Lalbes and Cook can see it… can you imagine what Lalbes would do to Thranduil if she read it?’

‘I am sure I will have many happy hours doing just that… there is, however, a much friendlier note written in a delicate hand, thanking us for our courtesy at such short notice and informing us there will be five in the party. Now, I shall go and try my most plaintive expression in the kitchens, and then perhaps we will have a little time to dress…’

‘Unless… Thel…? How much do you trust me?’

‘With my fëa, my life, and my all, of course, my light! But…’

‘No, just… let me go and have a word with our good lady helpers…’

‘Will I regret saying yes?’

‘Who knows?’ Glorfindel said, but he was grinning, his eyes dancing with bright glee. ‘But if I point out that, actually, of all of us, I’ve probably eaten at the Elvenking’s table more frequently and am best placed to advise Cook on what might be expected…?’

‘Very well, then! Mind, I can see you have some mischief planned…’

‘I shan’t be long,’ Fin said, depositing a smacking kiss on Ecthelion’s cheek. ‘And I’ll make sure there’s plenty of time to dress for dinner. Even with hairstyling, and hugging.’

Indeed, Fin wasn’t long about his errand, but other than saying that Lalbes and Bruiven had agreed to work late that night to help with serving, whatever else had passed remained a secret. He was, however, in a thoroughly good mood, and so Thel set his misgivings aside and allowed Fin free rein with his hair and clothing. There was much twining of beads and holding up of silks and satins until Glorfindel was happy with his choices, and Thel found himself helped out of his day clothes and, eventually, helped into a lavender satin shirt over which went a purple brocade tunic, teamed with midnight blue silk robes and leggings which had Fin smiling.

‘You look wonderful,’ he said. ‘Always, but I mean…’

‘I know, my golden sunbeam, thank you. And what of you?’

‘Oh, I don’t know… any old thing…’

‘Come here, come.’ Ecthelion beckoned his beloved and began selecting garments. ‘Now, I think you would look stunning in sky blues and sea greens, they set off the gold of your hair rather wonderfully, and emphasise the drama of your eyes, which are quite excessively blue, you know… and how do you want your hair?’

‘Spread across your chest, always suits me…’

‘Fin, darling…! Yes, but I meant while we are in company… Now, what about those lovely side braids to show off the perfect shape of your ears?’

‘Oh, that would take ages…’

‘No, not if I start now. Besides, we have time.’

They did, indeed, have time, and went to wait in Thel’s music room, which had a view along the path towards the camp.

‘They’re early; should we go out to greet them?’ Fin asked as the party came into view in the distance. ‘Could almost feel sorry for Thranduil – he’s got his mother on one side and his wife on the other, both talking at him… Legolas and Govon are following some way behind, can’t say I blame them…’

‘No, best let Bruiven or Lalbes open the door and we can greet our guests in the hallway… how is Oropher getting on with his preparations, do we know?’

‘No, we didn’t have the courage to ask, just in case we got roped in to help… think he’s in the upstairs washroom… don’t look at me with that plea in your voice, Thel, he’s been managing clasps and ties for the last two days now, he’ll be fine…’

‘That’s my golden light, ever the optimist… Oh, how odd, one of the ladies has disappeared… the queen, I think… while the other has laid a restraining hand on the Elvenking’s arm…’

‘Let me see… yes, that’s Nestoril, there… where’s Erymes got to…?’

A gentle tapping at one of the other doors and a moment later Bruiven appeared.

‘There’s a lady downstairs, my lords, would like a word…’

‘I’ll go,’ Ecthelion said. ‘If you will wait here, Fin, to greet our guests…’

But a bustle had followed Bruiven up the stairs and an elleth touched his shoulder lightly to move past him.

‘Thank you, Master Bruiven, there is no need for a fuss,’ she said quietly. ‘And am I fortunate enough to be talking to Lords Ecthelion and Glorfindel?’

‘Indeed,’ Ecthelion said, bowing deeply. ‘I am Ecthelion, and this is my husband. Your majesty, Queen Erymes, is it not?’

‘Oh, don’t be silly,’ she said, advancing and working at the fastenings of her very fine cloak. ‘Erymes is fine. Now, if I can hide this somewhere…?’

‘…hide?’ Ecthelion queried.

‘Yes, it’s rather too fine for a nice quiet dinner, don’t you think? Only my son would have me dress in my finery, so I pretended I had and threw this on over the top. There. That is better, don’t you think?’

Thus asked, Ecthelion appraised Queen Erymes’ appearance. She was a compact, neat little figure with hair a shade or two darker than her son’s and confined in braids that were tidy and practical, rather than elaborate. Her face sat easily in a smile, her blue eyes twinkling, and her garments were elegant not excessively opulent but still very sophisticated.

‘My lady, you look rather fine to me. But I am not really a judge of such matters.’

‘Nonsense, you look to have wonderful taste… now, do not worry, I have told my grandson and my honour-daughter to keep Thranduil out for as long as possible so I would have time for a little chat… really, I want to know how is my husband? I know he was in the Halls too long for his own good…’

‘Well, he’s been remembering he needs to put clothes on,’ Fin said. ‘Which is progress…’

‘Indeed!’ Erymes said, alarm showing in her voice. ‘The ladies who come to deliver their lessons did not mention such lapses…’

‘Well, they’ve been lucky… Still, it’s not happened for a few days…’

‘Don’t mind my Fin,’ Ecthelion put in hastily. ‘Really, Oropher is adapting well of late. His memory is returning apace.’

‘That is good news! Where is he…?’

Oropher’s voice filling the air prevented any answer.

‘Ecthelion! Glorfindel! Where in the name of the Valar are you? Won’t someone help me with these wretched braid clasps?’

‘He’s in the upstairs washroom. I’ll go,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Oropher! Give me a moment!’

‘It must be right!’ the king’s voice returned. ‘Today, it has to be right!’

‘Do not worry, I know exactly what he needs. Upstairs, you said?’ Erymes said, and headed towards the voice of her long-sundered husband. ‘Oropher? Where are you, pest of my heart…?’

Oropher came out of the washroom to stand in full view on the landing. His hair was in disarray, his expression shocked, and he dropped a handful of braid clasps to bounce and clatter on the stone floor at his feet.

Erymes advanced to tug and tidy at her husband’s hair as if she’d only seen him a few moments before, delivering a gentle scold on persons who threw their clasps on the floor in temper and to stand still…

‘There, that’s better. Now…’

‘Erymes. It is no wonder I did not recognise you, surely you have grown in beauty since last we were together…?’

‘Oh, you’ve lost none of your way with words, I see! How are you, old devil?’

Oropher put out his arms as if not sure whether she was real or not. Erymes walked into the embrace laughing.

‘It is good to see you at last! Yes, you can hold me, I will not break… there, that is better!’

‘I… in the Halls, there is nothing like this…’

‘I know, but, you silly, foolish king, you could have been out a thousand years ago or more…’

‘Erymes…’

A knock at the main door and Lalbes’ voice as she went to usher in the rest of the dinner guests drew Ecthelion and Glorfindel away from the reunion. Fin nudged Thel’s arm.

‘Let’s just hope they remember they’re here for supper, shall we? Don’t want to have to go looking for them…’

Ecthelion smiled. ‘Ah, beloved, if it came to that, we could always send Bruiven.’

The guests welcomed in, introductions for those who hadn’t managed to meet yet, impossible even in so small a gathering to pay attention to everyone at once…

‘…Thel, Govon and Legolas weren’t with the Silvans at the Night of the Names and there’s not been chance…’

‘But I understand I know your sister, Govon – Merlinith has been a frequent guest…’

‘Yes, she says she’s enjoyed it, and you always put on a good lunch for her and her fëa-mate. Legolas was saying we could do with some decent fare, field cooking being what it is…’

‘But you’re wood-elves, surely you’re used to it?’ Glorfindel said.

‘Well, we were,’ the prince said. ‘But the days of the Greenwood were long ago, sadly, and we’re not really used to foraging these days.’

‘That’s a pity. And after I’ve given special instructions to the kitchens…’

‘Shall we go through?’ Ecthelion put in, gesturing towards where Thranduil and his wife had already found their way into the sitting room room. ‘We will be joined by Oropher presently.’

‘That’s a point,’ Legolas said. ‘Grandmother was somewhere…’

‘Here,’ Erymes’ voice came from above. ‘I am here, I was just helping your daerada with something. Oropher, you do remember Legolas, I hope?’

‘Met outside the Halls. No idea who he is, though.’

‘He is our youngest grandson; do keep up, Oropher!’

‘Grandfather, it’s good to…’

‘And who’s that fellow with him? Bodyguard?’

‘That’s Govon, his husband.’

‘His what? My son allowed his son, a prince of the Greenwood, to…?’

To the relief of perhaps more than just Ecthelion and Glorfindel, Bruiven announced dinner and everyone moved from the sitting room into the dining room before more could be said.


	25. '...fit for an Elvenking...'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Glorfindel's experimental menu is presented...

Glorfindel smiled as he ushered everyone to their places.

‘As you can see, we’ve tried to keep in mind what you were probably used to in the forest. So we’re serving traditional moss beer with the meal and I managed to source a bottle or two of wine made from the lichen that only grows on the oldest forest oaks… and it wasn’t easy, I can tell you!’

‘You should not have gone to such trouble,’ Thranduil murmured with a barely imperceptible shudder.

‘Well, didn’t want you thinking we couldn’t host a dinner suitable for an Elvenking or two…’ Glorfindel said as Bruiven and Lalbes entered and placed bowls for everyone. ‘We’ve done our best to keep it authentic… ah, Bird’s Nest Soup…’

‘Really?’ Govon muttered.

‘Well… by the time the birds had finished with them they were looking a little tired,’ Glorfindel replied. ‘Still. You can do a lot with seasoning, can’t you? Did you have this problem at home?’

‘It’s not something I ever remember eating at home,’ Legolas admitted.

‘No? With all those lovely trees…? Well, maybe you had the wrong sort of birds in your forest…’

Ecthelion hid his smile in a mouthful of soup; it had proved to be nothing worse than mushroom, but with the addition of a swirl of fine, tangled noodles lurking amongst the broth.

‘It’s delicious,’ Erymes said firmly, favouring Thranduil with a baleful glare. ‘Don’t let it go cold now, ion-nin!’

With his mother’s eyes on him and the not-entirely surreptitious observation of almost everyone else, Thranduil had no choice but to comply.

‘It must be said, it is better than any I have eaten in a long while…’

‘Try some wine,’ Nestoril said, eyes twinkling.

‘Must I…?’

Ecthelion turned curious eyes towards his husband as he picked up his own glass and swirled it; the fragrance was that of one of their reasonably good reds, but the colour had been altered to a dark and dangerous purple.

‘Blackberries,’ Glorfindel whispered. ‘Oh, and… perhaps just a little bit of Cook’s gravy browning, it doesn’t taste of anything…’

‘If this is what you have done to make the first course more wood-elf friendly, dare I ask…?’

‘Let’s just say I’ve made suggestions that will lead to a complete and authentic wood-elf dining experience… and make sure you keep room for dessert!’

Fin smiled and winked and turned his attention to the soup, while Ecthelion found himself drawn into genteel conversation with Lady Erymes about how living by the sea suited them; it was a safe topic, and filled in the time while everyone plucked up the courage to sample the beer and sip at the wine in their glasses.

There was a sense almost of achievement around the table as the first course was cleared, underlain with an anxious expectation of what was coming. Only Oropher seemed unmoved, his attention divided between his meal and his wife; presumably so many years spent in the Halls away from actual food had numbed his expectations of what a decent meal should look like.

A sigh of relief ran round the table as the main course was served – nothing more than good venison and roasted roots, although there was minor consternation when a serving spoon disturbed something rather spider-like lurking in the gravy.

‘Onions,’ Glorfindel explained. ‘We don’t get very large spiders around here, and you wouldn’t believe how difficult it’s been to gather enough for everyone, so Cook joined some onions together for effect. And flavour.’

‘But… you do not mean that you… actual spiders?’ Nestoril asked.

‘Oh, not in the gravy.’

‘Not…?’

‘Were arachnids often eaten at court?’ Ecthelion asked. ‘I understand they grew to considerable size and would make a hearty meal…’

‘Fortunately, we were never so pressed as to need to serve such meats in the dining hall,’ Thranduil said. ‘And I am not quite sure from whence your ideas have come…’

Glorfindel slid his eyes towards Oropher and away again in an instant, as if trying not to look at the old king and thereby giving Thranduil an entirely erroneous idea of with whom these strange notions could have originated. 

‘Roast spider featured quite often on the guard flets, though,’ Govon said. ‘You could be in post for months on end, and a bit of fresh meat was nice, for a change.’

‘Nice?’ Legolas said, shaking his head. ‘I had the misfortune to have to eat spider once – it was disgusting!’

‘Oh, you must have been unlucky,’ Govon said. ‘Sometimes, if you got a guard spider, they could be a bit on the bitter side…’

‘Really, though, Glorfindel, I know you never ate spider at our tables!’ Legolas went on. 

‘It was a long time ago,’ Fin replied with an easy wave of the hand. ‘I think I remember the wine mostly.’

‘And not the beer?’

Glorfindel pretended not to hear, and Ecthelion smiled as his husband tossed his hair and continued. 

‘More gravy, anyone? More venison?’

‘Glad you’re here tonight,’ Oropher said, nodding towards Erymes. ‘These two don’t often put on a proper dinner… Lords of Gondolin they were, you wouldn’t know from how they live…’

‘We do like to live simply, for the most part,’ Ecthelion admitted. ‘But it is an honour to have such distinguished guests; it is to be hoped our humble kitchens have proved adequate.’

‘The venison is delicious,’ Erymes said. ‘And for you to organise so fine a meal at such short notice is very good of you.’

‘It’s our pleasure,’ Glorfindel said. ‘In fact, I really enjoyed helping catch – ah – forage for some of the ingredients…’

He gave a benign smile as the dishes were cleared. More wine was brought and several large, covered dishes were placed on the table. Govon, curious, lifted the edge of the dish nearest him to peer underneath.

‘Careful!’ Glorfindel said. ‘Not sure if they’ve stopped moving yet…’

‘What?’ Legolas demanded, and lifted the lid completely away. 

Before him lay a platter of glistening spiders with short, round bodies and slender, attenuated limbs that would have covered the palm of the hand if extended. They were piled in a fragile heap and as Legolas moved back, the transferred motion sent them shivering and trembling.

‘Help yourself, why not?’ Glorfindel said.

The prince reached tentatively out, reassured by the sweet fragrance coming from the dish.

‘Are they...? Sugar and honey, did someone dip…?’ 

He picked one of the spiders up by a leg with distrustful care.

‘Now you’ve taken one, you’ll have to eat it, you know.’ Govon said.

‘Yes, Lady Yavanna takes a very dim view of her creations being disrespected,’ Glorfindel said. ‘But there are serving spoons, you know; we’re not utter savages!’

Wielding a pair of tongs, he looked at Lady Erymes with a question. She raised an eyebrow in challenge, smiling, and gestured for him to serve her.

‘Cherries and raisins dipped in honey and coated in melted sugar to hold them together!’ she said once she had disposed of the morsel. ‘How clever! And the legs made from more spun sugar? Yet I am almost disappointed it is not actual spiders!’

‘Cook does like to play with hot sweet things,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Of course not actual spiders! As I say, it would have taken far too long to collect enough… and then there’s the Lady of the Living Things to contend with, some things are meant to be eaten by elves, and other things aren’t. Here, the spiders are for birds and such to feed on.’

‘I want to know what’s under here,’ Nestoril said, tapping a second cover.

‘Ah, you’ll like these.’ Fin removed the lid with a flourish to reveal more spider-shapes, these larger than the first. ‘Honeyed date bodies and biscuit limbs.’

‘Now, that sounds like the sort of spider I wouldn’t have minded eating,’ Legolas said. ‘And this one isn’t bad, really. Crunchy, not very substantial, though. Just there and gone again.’

‘Have another,’ Glorfindel suggested. ‘There are plenty.’

He passed around the platters, dropping spiders on plates, finally settling in his seat again and offering the dish to Ecthelion with a flutter of his lashes.

‘Really, Fin, poor Cook, I am sure she will resign after this…!’

Fin laughed. ‘No, when I told her what, and why, she shrieked with laughter. Wait until you see the cake, anyway…’

‘I must thank her for all her efforts… cake? There is cake?’

‘Yes, Lalbes will serve it with hot drinks once we’ve done with the sweets.’

‘Let me guess… is it shaped like a spider?’

‘No, of course not. Shaped like a tree. With spiders in, oh, and little cocoons hanging from the branches, and the spiders’ abdomens crunch when you bite into them, but they’re filled with…’

‘Better not tell me, my beloved light. Not if you wish me to actually eat one.’

‘…custard and cream, of just the right consistency to make a bit of goo in the mouth…’

‘Fin!’

‘Oh, and a mixture of jam with the cream, for extra realism…’

The cake, however, was a success, an entertaining end to the meal, and if Thranduil had said little throughout the evening, what he did say had been polite, at least. After his second slice of cake, and once the company had moved through into the sitting room where more wine – of a more normal hue, this time, was served, the Elvenking even ventured to say how pleasant the meal had been.

‘Of course, it is not what I have been used to,’ he said.

‘Please ignore my husband,’ Nestoril put in, placing a hand on Thranduil’s arm. ‘When we were reunited – only a few months ago, in fact – his meal of choice at the time was pizza and chips…’

‘Pizza?’ Glorfindel queried.

‘It’s a bit like cheese on toast with tomatoes and other bits and pieces thrown in,’ Legolas said.

‘And you two were just as bad with your takeaways!’ Nestoril continued. ‘It’s a good thing we sailed, to get you all into eating properly again!’

‘And my husband talks the kitchens into serving you birds’ nests and spiders,’ Ecthelion said apologetically. 

‘Ah, but it was delicious, whatever you claimed it to be! For a moment, I really thought that was a spider in the gravy…’

‘No, I promise no spiders were harmed in the making of tonight’s dinner. Although a few of the garden ones were a bit disconcerted – there was Cook and Lalbes staring at them just to see how they were put together, sort of thing,’ Glorfindel said. ‘There wasn’t even any moss in the beer. And…’

He broke off as he heard his name mentioned in Oropher’s voice.

‘…Glorfindel and Ecthelion are married, I thought I had better mention it in case you did not know that they live together as such,’ the old king was saying to Erymes. ‘I know it is unnatural, but they are my friends and I have learned to look away…’

Ecthelion drew close to Glorfindel’s side.

‘This from the fellow who made a pass at you?’ Fin murmured.

‘Oh, my light, we know he was just… new-eyed, and all… I could wish he had said nothing, though…’

There was a plaintive note to Thel’s voice, making Fin look more closely at his beloved. A tremble of lip, a convulsive swallow…

‘…but I am sure he means nothing by it…’

‘Ada!’ Thranduil said, too loudly, and Thel’s eyes closed in resignation as he realised that what may have passed as a small, private lapse was now like to be aired loud and long… ‘Ada, you cannot say such things, these alternative choices are no longer seen as inappropriate…’

‘And there are new words now, Daerada,’ Legolas said with an anxious glance at his own spouse.

‘Yes, I know, “afflicted” they are saying, but that makes it sound like an illness… which it is not…’

‘That’s true enough, but, Daerada…’

‘…no, for one cannot help an illness, but elves do not get ill…’

‘Not “afflicted”, Adar,’ Thranduil said with grave dignity. ‘The new term is gay. As in, for example, my son Legolas is gay.’

‘I always knew you would overindulge your children, Thranduil. Besotted with that Silvan of yours… well.’

‘Thel, I think I like that word,’ Glorfindel said brightly, trying to sound cheerful. ‘It’s how you make me feel, anyway; joyous and full of gaiety…’

‘You are certainly very joyous at times, my sunlight,’ Ecthelion replied around the hurt; to think that his old friend, whom he had long ago tried to help and support in the Halls, the one he’d talked to of his hopes and fears, of the love he and Glorfindel shared now seemed to have understood nothing about him, or Glorfindel, or their bond was inexplicably distressing… 

‘…not that I blame Ecthelion and Glorfindel,’ Oropher continued, refusing to be deflected. ‘It was their king Turgon’s fault for encouraging this perversion for the sake of keeping the birth-rate down…’

‘Oropher, Glorfindel and I always knew we were destined for each other; I think you have not quite understood how it was in Gondolin…’ Ecthelion began, but Oropher continued undaunted. 

‘…but for that, I am sure they would have gone on to choose ellith and marry and have families, instead of which…’

‘But we did choose, Oropher!’ Glorfindel said firmly. ‘We chose each other, we’re fëa-mates. Turgon had nothing to do with it.’

‘Oh, you say that now, but really…!’

‘Yes, really!’ Glorfindel moved behind Ecthelion, hands on his husband’s shoulders. ‘It’s always been Thel for me, from the first moment I saw him, and none of the suitable ellith that were pushed at me could have changed my mind; it’s not wrong, not unnatural, we know that now, do you really think the Valar would allow us to live this way if it was?’ Fin’s voice was rising, his grip on Ecthelion’s shoulders increasing. ‘Eru Iluvatar, he made us all and made sure there was one fëa-mate for each of us, do you think he would do this to us if it was wrong?’

‘I do not now about that; perhaps, because you were led into a wrong way of thinking by your king you are not to blame and so are allowed to continue…’

‘Father,’ Thranduil said, his voice cool, calm. ‘Many things have changed while you have been in the Halls. Marriage between two ellyn – or between two ellith – is now a valid and acceptable lifestyle choice.’

‘Although it’s not really a choice,’ Legolas said, coming to his father’s support. ‘That is, you can be lonely, or you can accept your nature. I was lucky, I found Govon. But it’s not something you can choose.’

‘Have I not been saying, it is not their fault?’ Oropher protested as Erymes grabbed his arm and drew him away with an apologetic glance at her hosts. ‘And they are still my friends…’

‘I can’t listen to any more of this…’ Glorfindel muttered.

‘You do not have to, beloved,’ Ecthelion said, his spirits dropping even as he said it. ‘You need to go and check on your goats, after all. Why do you not go and see if Gassy Galadriel is settled, yes?’

‘I can’t leave you here, Thel…’

‘Yes, you can. Oropher is just… set in his thoughts, I am sure he does not realise the distress he has inflicted…’

‘You see, I knew you were hurt…’

‘I will survive. I will be better if I know you are not exposed to such cavalier callousness. Besides, there may be a kid born tonight, you know you love to watch new life emerging.’

‘Well… if you’re sure… or there could just be another kinslaying…’

Ecthelion smiled and gently kissed his husband’s forehead.

‘I will come and seek you once they have gone,’ he said.

Fin managed an almost brave smile.

‘When you do, bring some wine, maybe? And a bit of cake, if there’s any left.’


	26. The Goat Shed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the evening wears on and Ecthelion is finally free to follow after Glorfindel...

With his eyes full of pain and tears, Fin gave Thel a brief, trembling hug and left the room. 

Watching him go, Ecthelion reminded himself they had guests, and a reputation for hospitality to maintain. Burying his distress as something to deal with later, he was about to make his mouth welcoming and return to the company when he was prevented by the approach of the wife of the Elvenking.

‘Lady Nestoril,’ he said with an almost successful attempt at a smile. ‘I am not sure if you are aware, but my husband keeps goats. One of the nannies is imminently awaiting the birth of a kid, and Fin has gone to make sure all is well with her…’

‘Very wise of him; could I go too?’ Nestoril replied with a dancing smile. 

‘Ah…’

‘Forgive me. And forgive Oropher, too, I am sure he… in fact, I am sure you know him better than I.’

‘He is of his day, Fin and I of our own. And all of those days are now long, long gone. There are bound to be differences.’ 

Nestoril patted his arm.

‘I was a healer, you know – well, I am still, at need…’

‘Yes?’ Thel said politely, withdrawing into himself a little in case the lady was about to be presumptive enough to offer assistance, but she seemed to understand and shook her head.

‘Yes, and I was simply going to say how much improved Oropher is from when he first emerged from the Halls… but that, perhaps, there are limits to how much he may continue to do so in a quiet environment,’ Nestoril said. ‘Perhaps, also, there are limits to your household’s patience… I think it might be getting near the time for him to move on.’

‘Ah, I see. Well, Oropher is Fin’s guest, really… but if he were to wish to leave, then of course… but I am being a dreadful host! May I get you another drink? A little more cake, perhaps?’

‘Or a nice, crunchy spider? That would be delightful!’

Relieved to have a purpose, Ecthelion escorted the lady to where a selection of cake slices and sugar spiders had been brought through and displayed next to the drinks table. On the far side of the room, Oropher, Erymes and Thranduil were all in quiet, brittle conclave while Legolas and Govon had gravitated towards the drinks and dainties and were keeping a wary eye on proceedings.

‘You’ve had that old buzzard here for how long, Ecthelion?’ Govon asked. ‘And you haven’t murdered him yet?’

‘Glorfindel and I have been happy to assist our old friend during this difficult transitional time,’ Ecthelion said with dignity. 

‘We should thank you, really,’ Legolas said. ‘We’d talked about coming out to him – that is, you know… not that it’s anything to do with him… but knowing he was staying with married ellyn… we thought it would make it easier…’

‘I noted he placed the responsibility for you being together on Thranduil,’ Ecthelion said. ‘One perceives a pattern; Oropher cannot conceive of – what was that phrase, and the charming word Fin liked so much…? Ah, yes – of being gay as a lifestyle choice, and so he is seeking reasons; in our case, he sees Fin and I as victims of our king’s whim…’

‘He’s in for a shock, then,’ Legolas said. ‘There’s a lot of us. Do you think he’s thought about Merlinith and Araspen yet…?’

‘I hardly think so; his mornings with the ladies are entirely focussed on crochet…’

Legolas burst out laughing and Govon joined in, leaving Ecthelion mildly puzzled but glad the mood had broken. 

‘Sorry,’ Govon said. ‘It’s just the whole idea of Great King Oropher, Scourge of the Spiders, going to work with a crochet hook… But where’s Glorfindel? I wanted to ask him about these spider things…’

‘Ah. One of the nannies is due to give birth. Pregnant goats, you see, are far more interesting than distinguished company in my husband’s opinion…’

The rest of the evening passed without further incident; Oropher continuing subdued and quiet. As far as Ecthelion could tell; there seemed to be an unspoken agreement to keep them on opposite sides of the room, so that if it looked as if there might be even the slightest chance of eye contact , one or other of Oropher’s companions would detach themselves from the group and come over to engage Thel in conversation while someone else distracted Oropher. Ecthelion was both grateful and annoyed at such care; they would all be going home soon, and he would be left with Oropher in any case…

Still, by the time it was necessary to seek Queen Erymes’ cloak, Ecthelion had processed much of the raw emotion that had so distressed him earlier, and Oropher seemed to realise he had spoken out of turn enough to watch what he said where Ecthelion could hear him.

Even so, it was a relief to bid everyone goodnight. 

As Ecthelion stood on the veranda to see the party off in the deepening twilight, the old king drew Erymes to one side, holding her back, and Thel overheard some of what passed between them.

‘Will you not stay? There is room aplenty…’

‘No, Oropher, we need to get back to the camp.’

‘I meant you, my wife.’

‘I see. No, not tonight.’

‘But why not? It has been so long since we met…’

‘Yes, and whose fault…? Never mind. No, you have far too much to do tonight without me here.’

‘I do?’

‘Have you forgotten what passed earlier with your friends?’

‘With Glorfindel? He has always been fragile, quick to take offence; he will be fine…’

‘You do see there is reason for him to be offended? And what of your other friend? No, you do not want me here cluttering up the place while you should be apologising…’

‘Apologise…?’

‘Why, yes, apologise to your friend for making him uncomfortable. Make amends for embarrassing them and for raising their private arrangements in public, if nothing else! Oh, do not look so sad; perhaps I’ll come tomorrow, and learn some crochet. Now, our son is waiting for me; I must go. Goodnight, Oropher.’

*

Left alone on the veranda as the visitors lifted their lanterns and headed down the path towards the encampment, Oropher and Ecthelion exchanged wary glances. It was the former king who broke the silence.

‘My wife seems to believe I ought to beg Glorfindel’s pardon.’

Ecthelion acknowledged the words with a tilt of his head, not trusting himself to speak.

‘She has obviously misunderstood my intentions earlier,’ Oropher went on. ‘I meant only to explain to her the organisation of the household; I was not casting judgement, you and Glorfindel are my friends, it is not my place to approve or disapprove of your behaviour. You understand that, do you not, Ecthelion?’

‘For my part, Oropher, it was more that you did not seem to recognise the affection Fin and I have for one another; we are married, we are fëa-mates, forever bound, as close to each other as any married couple.’

‘Oh, well, I know you’re besotted with Fin, but… well, everyone knows what he got up to while he was living his second life…’

‘We were not married until after his second death,’ Ecthelion snapped. ‘Moreover, that remark was uncalled for, Oropher, and I will thank you to keep your opinions of our marriage to yourself. For it does not seem to me, as if you have any right to comment.’

He pushed away from the veranda railing and stalked into the house where he would have gone straight out again seeking Fin but for the gentle clearing of a throat as he passed the door to the kitchens. 

‘Your pardon, my lord, but Lalbes was wondering if that would be all tonight?’

‘Bruiven… yes, thank you. Oh, wait; I promised Glorfindel cake and wine while we sit in attendance on Gassy Galadriel… if it is possible to arrange a hamper…’

‘Very good, my lord.’

‘And our thanks to the household; the meal was exceptionally successful, Cook has done wonders and the rooms looked delightful.’

‘I will pass that on, my lord.’

‘Thank you. And if you and Mistress Lalbes don’t feel up to the walk home tonight, the Blue Room is free, if you wish…’

‘Most kind, but I think we want our own place tonight. Cook and the maid will walk back with us. I’ll get that hamper together for you now, my lord.’

While he waited, Ecthelion gathered one or two things he thought Fin might also appreciate; a couple of warm blankets and soft pillows. The night was not cold, but he had no idea how long Fin would want to spend with the goats, and a little comfort might be welcome.

‘Here you are, my lord.’ Lalbes appeared with a large basket in her arms. ‘Now, I will walk over with you and then meet Bruiven on the path further up.’

‘There is no need, Lalbes; it is late and you have worked above your duties today…’

‘Cook and the girl are just finishing up in the kitchen; I have time. Now, have you got those cushions Lord Glorfindel likes?’

Ecthelion found himself on the edge of his first real smile in hours; Lalbes did like to fuss over Fin… over both of them, in fact, but it was more often Glorfindel who needed her maternal concern.

‘I have indeed.’

‘Good. When he’s out of sorts a little bit of comfort is just the thing.’

‘He has only gone to bear Gassy Galadriel company…’

‘Of course he has; it was simply coincidence that our house guest had managed to be so rude that we heard him in the kitchens… Now, you know as well as I do that that nanny isn’t going to kid until tomorrow at the earliest… anyway, I put up some soup for Lord Glorfindel, as well as the rest, it’s in an earthenware jar well wrapped so if you put it into a bale of straw it will keep hot for hours.’

‘I am sure Fin will be glad of it, Lalbes.’

‘Well, it’s for both of you. Now, don’t you be going back to the house alone, Lord Ecthelion, do you hear me? You wait for Glorfindel to be ready, or you stay in the shed with him, because we won’t be back before dawn…’

‘Yes, Nana Lalbes,’ Thel said meekly, causing her to tut at him and shake her head.

‘I don’t know, even after all this time, you two still need someone to watch over you!’

‘Would you like us to build you and Bruiven a cottage nearby, perhaps between here and the harbour? You would be completely independent when you needed to be and yet more conveniently close when you wanted to fuss over us…’

‘I will thank you not to mention that to Bruiven, if you please! He would agree instantly and then where would we be?’

‘In a lovely little cottage with a view of the sea and pleasant neighbours.’

Lalbes gave him a withering glance she could not quite keep up. She sighed.

‘Your Glorfindel had been doing so well, too,’ she said in completely different tones, gentle and sad. ‘Always waiting for a ship, over-excited when one arrived but then disappointed when it was the wrong one… but between ships, he’d been fine. And now this ship, with all his old friends on, and it’s just one thing after another…’

‘I know.’ Ecthelion thought it wisest not to mention it had been one friend in particular who had cause some of Fin’s mood swings. ‘But they have barely docked, really. I am sure, a few more weeks, once Oropher has gone back to his family and the Silvans have returned to their trees, Fin will settle again.’

Lalbes nodded and came to a halt, setting down the basket. They were within hail of the goat shed now, and Thel could see the glow of a lantern from the upper floor where there was a store for fodder and where Fin would sometimes go to ground.

‘Well, I’ll bid you goodnight, my lord. I hope all is well with… the goat.’

‘Thank you, Lalbes. And for your hard work this evening; all Fin’s little jokes with the food went down wonderfully…’

Ecthelion watched as Lalbes made her way across the field where her husband was waiting. Once he had seen Bruiven greet her, Thel lifted the basket and turned towards the goat shed.

*

Expecting Fin to be in the hayloft whence the glow of the lantern had shown, Thel was not surprised to find the ground level of the shed unoccupied but for goats and his husband nowhere to be seen. Gassy Galadriel looked at him with curiosity but didn’t get up from her bed on a heap of straw. The ladder had been pulled up but the lantern still glowed from the upper level.

Thel sighed softly. 

‘My light, are you well?’ he called up.

‘There you are, Thel! I thought you’d never get here!’

‘Well, I had to make sure everyone had gone home before I could abscond…’

‘Did you bring the wine? This one’s empty.’

‘Ah, you had the foresight to bring a bottle with you…’

‘Bruiven brought a couple across for me.’

‘That was thoughtful of him. I have wine, and food, and blankets and cushions… will you come down?’

The silence lasted too long before Fin replied, his voice diffident and small.

‘I don’t think I want to.’

‘As you please, my joy. Everyone has all gone home now, I assure you.’

‘Even Oropher?’

‘Apart from Oropher.’

Swearing and rustling from above.

‘My light, by the time our guests left, Oropher had come to see he’d spoken out of turn. He even apologised, after a fashion.’

‘Not for what mattered, I’ll bet. Not for the important things.’

‘No. For embarrassing us, mostly… I doubt he understands how hurtful it is that he does not see our love…’

‘That’s not it, though, that’s not it at all, Thel…’

Fin sounded utterly miserable and Ecthelion wanted nothing more than to be able to comfort him, to console him, but Glorfindel was out of reach…

‘Fin, my golden love, I do not say you should come down, but it would be easier to talk to you if you would perhaps let me come up?’

‘Would you? After everything?’

‘What in the name of all the Valar has been going through that gorgeous head of yours tonight? We have only been apart for two hours, I am sure there has not been time for anything like “everything”, but, yes, even if there were, only must I leap heroically to your platform? Because if so, I shall not be able to bring the wine…’

Even before he had finished speaking, there came a grating slither and the edge of the ladder appeared above, dropping down slowly for Thel to catch and steady it. He slung the blankets over his shoulder, stuffed the cushions into the top of the basket, and made his way up to Fin’s nest amongst the hay bales.

‘You are my sunshine,’ he said, sliding the basket across and freeing himself of blankets to crawl across to his beloved’s side. ‘My only sunshine… you make me happy when skies are grey… now, my darling, whatever is the matter?’

Glorfindel made an attempt to push back, but he was cornered by hay bales and so just sat looking miserable until Thel found a bottle of wine and passed it to him. He lifted it, about to pull the cork, but shook his head and set it down again.

‘I got to thinking, Thel. What if… what if Oropher wasn’t being obtuse and dim and… and the reason he didn’t see love was because there wasn’t any to see, that it… it isn’t real, Thel? Like I’m not real, sometimes, and… what if all that time in the Halls he watched you and… and he knew you were too good for me and then after…’

‘No, beloved. Oropher was not that outward-looking in the Halls. And I assure you, our love is real, and true, and strong.’

‘But all that time I spent being everyone else’s hero and… and I just wanted to get back to you, to be your hero, Thel. I just wanted to be your anything…’

‘And you are my everything. Hero, lover, husband, fëa-mate. You are why my heart beats and my blood sings, you, my Prince Charming, my sunshine…’

Ecthelion held out his hand and Fin tentatively reached towards him. Fingers entwined with his husband’s, Thel pulled himself across to Glorfindel side and wiped away the tears that had been running down Fin’s face.

‘No need for this, beloved, golden and wonderful light of my heart, my joy, my all. No need at all.’ Thel put his arms around Fin and gently held him. ‘I love you, beloved.’

‘Thel…’ Glorfindel held on tight, burying himself in Ecthelion’s embrace. ‘I… oh, love, after everything…’

‘I love you always, after and before and during everything, my love. Did I ever share with you the next verse of that little song?’

‘Are you trying to distract me?’

‘Perhaps I am trying to show you that I love you…’ He began softly to sing. _‘The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamt that you were by my side… when I awoke and was mistaken, then I hung my head and cried…’_

‘Oh, Thel… that’s so sad!’ Glorfindel said. ‘And I wouldn’t, you know. Wouldn’t leave you. Not even alone in bed. Well, if I needed a comfort break, or… or maybe to make you breakfast in bed, perhaps, or… or to look out and see if there’s a ship, but I always stood where you could see me, even though the view from the other window is better, but…’

‘Did you really? How charmingly adorable of you, I wish I had known, it would have made me smile all the more… but it is but a song, my joy. It says you are the light of my world, that without you I am lonely, and all is colourless. That you give me worth and purpose and happiness. That I love you.’

Glorfindel burrowed close against Thel’s chest, holding on tight while Ecthelion rocked him gently, softly.

‘Do you remember when this was our home, my golden one? We camped on the plain for a few weeks while we decided what to do, and then built this little haven?’

‘From stone gathered from round about, and what we could find… it took us months, even with help from the town,’ Fin said. ‘And we put in the upper floor and a real staircase so it was like a proper bedroom.’

‘We did indeed. And an outside necessary.’

‘And dreamed of proper facilities…’

‘And you told me all about washing cascades and the like…’

Gradually as Ecthelion encouraged Fin to reminisce about their early home-making days, he clung less and cuddled more easily in, relaxing, and Thel hoped the worst was past. Eventually, Fin sighed and lifted his head to look into Thel’s eyes.

‘I sometimes wonder if we should have built the big house, you know,’ he said. ‘No room for guests here. Perfect.’

‘Ah, but where would Rog and his friend have slept when they came to visit? Or Egalmoth and his bride? For that matter, where would the goats be sleeping?’

‘Good point. Thel…?’

‘Beloved?’

‘Do you remember where the bed was?’

‘Of course. By coincidence, I happen to have blankets and cushions with me; we could recreate our bed, perhaps, with straw for a mattress…’

‘I like that idea. I… what Oropher said, it made me scared again, Thel. I think, if you could just, you know, hold me, maybe a hug…’

‘To hold you and to hug you would be wonderful, my beloved.’ 

Ecthelion kissed Thel gently on the cheek and rose to his feet to orient himself with the room. He picked up the blankets and pushed through the hay, rearranging the bales where needed, until he had built a mattress built with space around, spreading the blankets and placing the cushion. 

Holding out his hand, he smiled at his husband, all eyes and love and desire in his expression, and Fin responded, coming towards him to almost fall on him with anxious, hot kisses. Ecthelion closed his eyes and filled his senses, Fin’s mouth sweetly heady from the wine, seasoned by his salt tears; the warm fragrance of Fin’s soap and the musk of his perspiration. His warrior body, hard and firm even after millennia of peace pressed close to Thel’s chest, his arms held Ecthelion close and almost casually Thel turned with Fin in his arms and fell backwards onto the bed amongst the hay, pulling his husband with him, not minding that the breath was pressed from him as Fin landed on his chest, but using the last of his exhalation to laugh and breathe in, and roll so that Fin was beneath, to swarm his hands all over him, undoing ties, unfastening clasps, folding away clothes and layers to reveal warm, velvet skin begging to be kissed and touched and nuzzled. He lost himself in Glorfindel’s eyes, discarding his own clothing in a flurry of silks, desperate to be naked in Fin’s embrace, knowing the impossible would be asked of him yet again and, as always, he would do his best to respond.

‘Did you think to bring…?’ Fin began, and Ecthelion could nod and smile, for that was the easiest question of all.

‘Of course I brought the oil, my love; am I ever without it, when at any moment my love for you could spiral into passion and I would need to find somewhere to be private with you? Yes, I brought the oil.’

Glorfindel licked his lips, eyes bright and glinting like sapphires.

‘Hold me then, Thel. Make… make me real, make everything real again, like you do. Like you always do for me.’

‘My darling…’ 

Yes, of course he would, as much as was possible, he would always do all he could to answer Fin’s need, whatever he felt his personal reality required, he would hold him, love him, bury himself in his body until they were both lost in passion, until love brought them back, grounded them; perhaps it would be enough.

Ecthelion kissed Glorfindel’s anxious lips, lingering his tongue in with a slow, erotic slide until Fin moaned into his mouth. He drifted his hands across the broad, firm chest, kissed and swirled his tongue on Fin’s throat and neck, breathed into his hair. Glorfindel’s hands stroked his shoulders, caressed his braids as he found Fin’s arousal and took him into his mouth to dance his tongue and Fin gasped and clutched, but then to gently release him while he was still hard and hot, to roll his beloved over and intrude oiled fingers gently into the secret entrance to his body, to explore and tease until Fin whimpered and twitched and gasped in need and he felt the same need urge him on.

‘Yes, Thel, oh, yes…’

Ecthelion paused only to anoint himself, bending to kiss Glorfindel’s spine and bringing his body close, easing into him with joyful gratitude.

‘Homecoming,’ he said softly. ‘To find myself in your body, it is like being welcomed home. There, my beloved, my golden, glorious light, ah, you feel wonderful…’

‘Thel, it’s… yes, that’s it, exactly, you hold me in place, you put me where I need to be… oh, Thel…’

Glorfindel pushed back onto Ecthelion, encouraging him deeper, and Thel wrapped his arms around Fin’s waist, laying his face against his back as he moved slowly, powerfully within his body, pulled and warmed and losing himself to the rhythm and the need. His hand reached for Glorfindel’s erection, holding him firmly and beginning to stroke in time. He felt the pull and clench of Fin’s body around him, felt himself drawn in more deeply, so deep that he didn’t know where Fin began and he ended; they were one, fëa and fëa merging and melding together in a perfect, heady rush of love and knowing and he came as Glorfindel shouted out his name, and Fin ejaculated as Thel shuddered and moaned in bliss and, yes, just for a moment he understood what Fin meant; they were real, together, real and perfect and as long as he had Fin and Fin wanted him, it would always, always be enough.

‘May I hold you, beloved light of my fëa?’ Ecthelion asked, delicately withdrawing from Glorfindel’s body. ‘I know that, on occasion, you prefer to…’  
But Fin had turned in his arms and clasped close to him.

‘Sometimes, yes,’ he said. ‘Sometimes you’re just so much I daren’t move in case I imagined you, I… oh, love…’

‘There, let me hold you… that’s better, I can reach to stroke your hair now.’

‘What Oropher said, Thel… he’s wrong. It was always you, there’s never been anyone, never could be anyone I love more… if he doesn’t see that…’

‘He’s been away from his wife for far longer than we were apart; and yes, it was entirely his fault he did not see her in the Halls, but that is beside the point; I mean, rather, that he has nothing to judge real, true love by for he has sundered himself from it for so long.’ Ecthelion snuggled Glorfindel against his chest and kissed the treasure of his hair. ‘We are fortunate. I am fortunate…’

‘Thel. My Thel, is it really all right? About everything?’

‘My light, of course it is. You know this; from time to time you doubt yourself, that’s all. But it is always all right. Now, if you are rested, would you like something to drink? There is cordial as well as wine.’

‘What, for the morning when it’s far too early to drink wine?’

‘Possibly. And there is soup, and cake.’

‘Cake, I think. Did you bring the bits with the green icing?’

‘I am not sure, Lalbes put the basket up for us. Come, shall we see?’

‘Let me fetch it.’

Glorfindel rolled over Thel, kissing him in passing, and went to retrieve the basket while Ecthelion tidied the bales of the bed into a configuration more comfortable for lounging.

‘Thel?’ Fin’s voice was curious, interested. ‘Thel, I think something’s happened, it has, yes, Gassy’s had her kid!’

‘While we were otherwise engaged? How very inconsiderate of her!’

‘Don’t suppose you’ve got my breeches there, have you…?’

‘I can bring them… but…’

‘Don’t want to shock her now, do I?’

Thel handed over the leggings and laughed as he put his own on for good measure.

‘You are most considerate. Now, what will you call the kid, have you thought? Which of your old and dear friends will you commemorate this time?’

‘Well, if it’s a nanny, I thought either Well-Met-Nestoril – because it’s nice to see Ness again, we had some laughs… and if it’s a billy, well, after tonight, how about… Be-Nice-Oropher!’

‘A charming thought, and one that will afford no end of pleasure amongst ourselves… but…’

‘Sweet Lady Yavanna, there’s another one! Twins, Thel, twins!’

Ecthelion joined Fin at the edge of the loft, looking down into the pen. The first kid was already on its feet, wobbly and adorable, and Gassy Galadriel was licking the caul from the second with determination, ignoring the elves above.

‘Let us hope for one of each, then, and you can proceed as planned.’

Glorfindel slid his arm around Ecthelion’s waist and kissed his neck.

‘Look, though, Thel. New life, can you beat it?’

‘No; it is entirely wonderful. Do you wish to go down?’

‘Well… perhaps best not. No, Gassy knows what she’s doing. Come on, let’s snuggle down in the hay again and drink to her health, shall we? Time enough in the morning to welcome the babies.’


	27. Naming of Goats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the goats are named

In spite of some discomfort, Ecthelion found himself smiling up into the rafters; Glorfindel was welded against his hip, having dragged Thel’s arm around himself at some point during the night and then clamped his own arm on top to keep the two of them firmly associated.

Of course, Thel was used to waking in a delicious confusion of limbs, entangled with his husband sometimes by design, sometimes by chance, but never had Glorfindel’s embrace been quite so tight.

It was rather sweet.

He lay and pondered his situation; the lovely proximity balanced by the fact that Glorfindel’s leg had spread across Thel’s lower body, exerting pressure, and wondering how long he could lie there enjoying the closeness before it ceased to be entirely enjoyable and he needed to find a way to wake Fin without it seeming as if he had done so…

A few more moments passed before a slight alteration in Fin’s breathing, a shifting of his weight suggested he might be stirring. Fin’s head on his shoulder, impossible to look into his eyes from this angle to see if they were still silvered with the nictitating membrane that protected his ultra-blue gaze during reverie, but came a mumble and a sigh and Fin cuddled closer before lifting his sleepy head to blink away the night and smile into Thel’s eyes.

‘Still here,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Letting you hold me by your side. Not gone anywhere.’

‘Good morning, my joy.’ Ecthelion did not mention he had been awake for ages and his darling Fin only now stirring… how sweet of him to keep in mind the second verse of the sunshine song…! And, of course, that explained the tightness of the cuddle… ‘Yes, indeed, my light, and I am most grateful not to wake alone. Thank you for remembering.’

‘I was hoping it wasn’t time to be up yet, but it is, I think,’ Fin said, moving in Thel’s arms and reducing the pressure a little. ‘Only if someone comes to do fodder and milking and we’re still cuddling…’

‘We would have to hide amongst the bales and pretend to be pigeons, perhaps.’

Fin laughed, light of heart again. 

‘Well, there’s always that…’ He released his death-grip on Thel’s arm and pulled his husband over on top of himself, kissing him soundly. ‘Love you, my Thel, with your hair all sleep mussed and your eyes so full of dreams.’

‘And you, my golden joy, my heart’s song. We ought to return to the house; if there is time, we can bathe before breakfast.’

‘Or breakfast in here, on soup and wine and cake.’

‘Ai, if only we had not pulled down the outside necessary, it would have been a perfectly workable plan!’

‘Well, there’s a drain somewhere and, oh, if it isn’t too early to get up, it’s not too early to meet the kids, is it?’

‘Not at all, my sunrise, but do put your breeches on first; you know what goats are like for nibbling…’

Fin laughed, and grabbed up his leggings, while Ecthelion dressed more slowly, his heart singing at the brightness of Glorfindel’s mood. He followed Fin down the ladder, slipped outside to use the drain with a sigh of relief, and returned to the goat shed where Fin had already entered Gassy Galadriel’s pen and was murmuring endearments to her while endeavouring to lift the tails of the new born kids.

‘And…?’ Ecthelion asked.

‘One of each. Gorgeous little things, aren’t they? Nice and sturdy.’ Fin lifted the kids close against his body, cuddling them carefully while running his eyes and hands over to make sure all was well. ‘Perfect little babies; I don’t know what’s more adorable, their bumpy knees or their soft whiffly noses…’

‘Or perhaps the fact that you are so enamoured you have not noticed Gassy is trying to eat your hair…’

‘What…? Oh, Thel, could you help…?’

In fact, Thel thought to himself as he distracted the nanny with a fragment of cake, more adorable than anything was Glorfindel himself, the happy, laughing grin on his face, his utter delight in the new lives in his arms.

Presently there came the dubious sound of Bruiven singing brightly to announce his approach; Thel went to the open door and smiled out.

‘Good morning, Bruiven! We have two new additions to the flock. Do you know, your lady was of the opinion that no kids would be born last night?’

‘I did know that, my lord, good day to you both,’ Bruiven said as he entered and looked at the new kids now exploring Glorfindel’s lap. ‘They seem healthy little animals, and that’s the main thing.’

‘Yes; feeding nicely. They arrived overnight oh, a couple of hours after Thel got here. Went in this morning to look them over,’ Fin said. ‘Lifted the tails and we’ve got one of each… haven’t really settled on names yet, we’re going to talk about it over breakfast.’

‘Well, my lords, if it won’t disturb you, I’ll make a start with the feeds.’

‘Ah, we were only waiting to share the news before returning to the house,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Thank you, Bruiven.’

‘I don’t suppose I could stay here a bit, could I, Thel?’ Glorfindel suggested wistfully as Bruiven took the bag of feed outside to fill the paddock trough. ‘With the little ones; Gassy doesn’t mind, and…’

‘And who will stop her feasting on your gorgeous tresses, my light?’ Thel leaned over the side of the pen, rubbed the nanny behind her ears and then stroked a finger down the nearest kid’s face. ‘They are delightful, but while you are playing, they are not eating or sleeping. And we need to bathe and change; Merlinith and Araspen are coming as usual, perhaps with Queen Erymes, too; I suggest that once we have broken our fast and greeted the ladies, we can both come and sit with the goats. How does that sound?’

‘If you bring your flute, you can play for us, and that would be perfect!’

‘A perfect morning, what could be nicer?’

*

They had time to linger and splash in the bathing pool, to laugh and kiss and make love under the washing cascade, to bundle up in towels and discuss names for the kids before dressing and emerging into the day once more with just the faintest shadow on their happiness. Although Fin’s mood was still joyful, and Thel was delighted and relaxed, neither was really looking forward to the first morning conversation with Oropher, and it was rather a relief to take their places at the breakfast table in the garden and be told that their guest was eating indoors.

‘He says he is not quite used to so much time spent in the fresh air of late, my lords, and so he will eat in the dining room and stay there until it is time for crochet class.’

‘Thank you, Lalbes.’ Glorfindel smiled at the housekeeper. ‘And thank you for the supper you put up for us last night; it was just what we needed, sitting up with the nanny all night…’

‘All night, my lord?’

‘Perhaps a slight exaggeration; some of the night,’ Ecthelion said. ‘I do not know if Bruiven is back yet, or has had time to say, but twins, indeed, delightful little creatures…’

‘Nanny and billy, so we need to think of what to call them… I thought… Be-Nice-Oropher and Well-Met-Nestoril…’

‘Oh, listen to you with your silly names!’ Lalbes slid plates onto the table and poured drinks, fussing absently. ‘It’s all very well if you know your friends won’t be offended, but what about something nicer? There’s all this new music you’ve been playing, there are some lovely words and names amongst those…’

‘Dandy Highwayman,’ Glorfindel said with a wink.

‘Prince – Princess, I suppose – Charming…’ Thel countered.

‘Ah, now why do I have to be the girl? I mean, not, that is, why what you call me, Thel…?’

‘I did not intend… Very well, The Eyes of Bette Davies, is that better for the nanny…?’

‘No, I don’t think it is… why not Not-Really-a-Prince-Prince Charming…?’

‘Oh, you two!’ Lalbes flapped a serviette at them. ‘I meant something like, Sunshine, from the Sunshine Song, and Moonlight…’

‘Sunshine Song and Moonlight Sonata are interesting suggestions, Lalbes, thank you,’ Thel said. ‘We will take your idea under consideration. It is an important thing, the naming of goats; Glorfindel likes to find exactly the perfect names.’

After breakfast, and just when they were beginning to exchange glances and wonder about what to say to Oropher – for the moment was almost upon them when it could be delayed no longer – the ellon himself emerged from the house and strode across as if expelled from the doorway by an enemy. He glanced over his shoulder, and with a grim, set expression, approached the table and inclined his head.

‘The ladies have arrived and Erymes tells me I need to apologise to you both, but particularly to you, Glorfindel. I… already spoke on this matter last night to Ecth… to your husband… fëa-mate. I am not used to apologising.’

‘Well, we’re not used to having our love for each other questioned,’ Glorfindel said, shifting in his seat to draw closer to his husband. ‘Especially not publicly, in our own home, our actual own home, by someone we thought was our friend, are we, Thel?’

‘That is true, my light…’

‘Well,’ Oropher’s voice became blustery, almost defensive. ‘Never meant to cause upset. Been very grateful, you know, safe harbour, after everything… so… again, I beg your pardon.’ He looked down at the path beneath his feet. ‘Erymes also said I am an idiot, a foolish old relic who had better get his ideas in order before he is reunited with the majority of his Silvans. She may have a point.’

‘She probably does,’ Glorfindel agreed. ‘Especially the bit about being an idiot.’

‘I really did not mean to cause you distress,’ Oropher said. ‘In fact, my intention was rather the opposite; to mention your relationship to my wife before someone remarked on it accidentally and potentially caused awkwardness; I was not aware that everyone already knew and did not care…’

Glorfindel made a gesture with his hand.

‘If I were you, Oropher, I’d shut up now before I ruined an almost half-decent apology.’

‘Would you care to sit, Oropher?’ Ecthelion suggested. ‘Perhaps a little cordial?’

‘Could do with things being cordial, yes.’

Ecthelion glanced at Glorfindel, saw his husband give the smallest of nods, of shrugs. Apology accepted.

‘Then join us,’ Thel said. ‘And if you will forbear to comment publically on our marriage, then the matter may rest.’

‘Thank you; I cannot stay long, however; as I say, Erymes and the ladies are already arrived. Speaking of whom, did you know that Merlinith and Araspen...?’

‘Yes, we know,’ Glorfindel said. ‘You see? Thel and I aren’t that out of the ordinary…’

‘I disagree; you are very singular friends, for which I am most grateful. Will you walk back to the house with me? There are more persons than usual and I am not quite sure of all the names…’

*

It was somewhat of an understatement; as well as Queen Erymes and Merlinith and Araspen, present also were more than a dozen Silvans, ellyn and ellith alike, their mixed modern and traditional garb suggesting a mingling of both new arrivals and long-settled elves had come for crochet lessons; the room was full and Lalbes and Bruiven were increasing the squeeze by attempting to bring in more seating…

Glorfindel stood in the doorway and grinned.

‘And I always thought this was a good-sized room… is everyone here to learn crochet?’

Several people nodded too swiftly, others hesitated too long; it was plain many were there simply to catch a glimpse of the senior king.

‘Well, have a nice morning everyone… can’t stop, I have to look to my goats…’ Glorfindel flicked his golden hair with a flutter of his eyelashes and a grin at his husband. ‘I could use your help, Thel, love if you’re not too busy here…?’

‘Yes, very well, I will come, just let me collect one or two things first, you go ahead… Merlinith, Araspen, Lady Queen, it is delightful to see you again…! No doubt we will speak later, but for the moment, enjoy your session.’

*

‘What have you got there, Thel, did you think to bring your flute?’ Glorfindel asked when Ecthelion joined him in the goat shed presently. ‘And, yes, I ran away again, I am sorry, but at least I remembered to give you reason to come with me this time… and we had planned on it, just not in such a hurry…’

Ecthelion set down his flute and other items and leaned over the rail of the goat pen to kiss his husband.

‘You are Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower; you have never run away in your lives, my beloved light. At the very most, you may have beaten a hasty, strategic retreat on occasion, but run away…?’

Fin grinned and kissed Ecthelion back.

‘Thank you, my love. And I’m sorry. And I will try not to retreat strategically again, but last night I had to…’

‘I know. And last evening I wanted more than anything to follow you, not to flee but to ensure you were well. Still, it is known that we do not crochet; I have not the inclination, and…’

‘..and I get a bit tangled up in all the wool. Look at the kids, do you think they’ve grown?’

Thel smiled. 

‘In the space of two hours? Well, theoretically, they will have. But observably so…?’

‘So, what did you bring, did you say yet?’

‘Ah. My little cushion flute, I think it has a softer sound… and my drawing things; these babies are, as you noted earlier, adorable, and I would like to try to capture an image or two.’

‘That sounds like a wonderful idea, but, Thel…? Could we… you know, the blankets are still here, up in the hay loft, and… just… perhaps a hug first? While the kids have their nap, maybe?’

Ecthelion smiled and reached to caress the exquisite line of Fin’s jaw.

‘I think that’s a splendid idea; besides which, should there be any visitations from the house, they are more likely to come later than sooner. Would you like to ascend the ladder first? That way I can admire your perfect contours as you climb.’

Fin gave a grin that was almost shy, and vaulted the pen.

‘Lovely of you to say, Thel, but I was looking forward to ogling your backside today…’

Laughing, Thel pushed his husband towards the ladder.

‘Up you go, my gorgeous golden feast for the eyes! It will be your turn to ogle next time.’

‘Ooh, there’s going to be a next time, how exciting…!’

*

In fact, mostly it was hugging, with lips, admittedly, and a little more body contact to begin, but remembering there was a houseful of pretend crocheting visitors, even Glorfindel saw the wisdom of dressing as soon as was bearable. Rearranging the hay bales so they could lounge and look through the window towards the sea, they spent a soft, companionable hour before descending again to the ground floor, for Fin to fuss over the goats and Thel to sketch him, and them, at play.

‘You know, I think Lalbes’ idea for names isn’t a bad one as far as it goes,’ Fin began, rubbing Gassy Galadriel’s forehead with affection while Thel attempted to capture the expressions on both their faces. ‘But it doesn’t work, not really; both kids are more or less the same tan and white, you’d need more contrast to make Moonlight and Sunshine work…’

Thel made an encouraging noise in his throat, concentrating on his work. Fin took it as permission to expand.

‘…so I was thinking about songs, again, and… why not Dandy Highwayman for the billy? And, oh, I don’t know… maybe Dancing Queen for the nanny…?’ 

This last was said with easy, throwaway diffidence that made Thel stay his hand and smile; obviously Fin had been giving this matter some thought…

‘Dancing Queen…? A charming suggestion, but as for the billy, why not Prince Charming? It fits rather well, do you not think?’

‘But what about Lalbes?’

‘Your reasoning was sound; there is little contrast between the kids, and Lalbes had not seen them when she made her suggestion. Besides, if she objects, you can suggest we name them after her and her spouse instead…’

This made Fin laugh, and nod.

‘Yes, Thel, good idea!’

‘So Prince Charming and Dancing Queen it is. Ah, hold still a moment, my joy; I wish to just catch how your hand is resting… there, perfect!’

‘How are you getting on?’

‘Well, I think; I should like to sketch the kids next, but you hold so much of my interest…’

‘You can draw me any time, you know that – these babies won’t stay little long.’

‘True.’

Thus admonished, Ecthelion sought a fresh page and began more sketches, delighted when the kids decided Glorfindel would be the perfect playground as it gave him reason to add his husband to the sketch; there was something he found indescribably moving in how tenderly Fin held the creatures, that those strong, sure hands which had wielded weapons with deadly might could now hold a kid with gentle, loving finesse… he smiled as he worked, and was truly startled when he heard Bruiven’s voice from outside.

‘My lords, if I may, Lady Erymes has expressed an interest on seeing the kids, and so Lalbes has sent me with a proper chair for her. And refreshments.’ 

‘Come on, then,’ Glorfindel called. ‘Set a chair for the queen, she is most welcome…’ He raised an eyebrow and grinned at Ecthelion. ‘I expect she isn’t the only one wanting to see the new arrivals?’

‘No indeed, my lord,’ Bruiven said, placing the chair and pulling a bale of straw into place to serve as support for the tray, goblets and bottle of cordial he produced from a bag slung over his shoulder. ‘But it seems only right to give her the precedence, her being a queen, albeit only of Silvans, my lord.’

Ecthelion shook his head as Fin grinned at this.

‘Ai, Bruiven…! In fact, the Silvans are rather nice when one gets to know them. Certainly they haven’t caused anything like as much trouble as some Noldor I could mention, they really give the rest of us a bad name… well. Thank you, Bruiven.’

Erymes made her entrance a few moments later.

‘I hope I am not an intrusion?’

‘Not at all, Lady Queen, be welcome to our little goat shed,’ Ecthelion said, setting down his drawing equipment. ‘Fin, where are your manners, do come out of there…’

‘I can’t, someone’s gone to sleep inside my tunic…’

Erymes went to the edge of the pen and held out a hand to the non-sleeping kid.

‘How charming! Do they have names yet?’

‘Yes, the sleeping one is Dancing Queen and the baby billy there with you, he’s called Prince Charming…’

‘How lovely! And their dam, is she well? She looks good and strong.’

‘Gassy Galadriel? Yes, she’s fine, plenty of milk for them, good mother but not too over-protective…’

Ecthelion waited while Fin and the Silvan queen talked goats for some moments; the lady seemed well-informed on the topic, considering her status. Presently, she got up from her knees, dusted herself off, and took the chair waiting for her.

‘I didn’t come just to admire the little ones,’ she admitted, accepting a goblet of cordial from Ecthelion. ‘Charming though they be.’

‘I must confess, I did rather wonder,’ Ecthelion said. ‘How has the morning been?’

‘Entertaining, although perhaps not as it was intended to be. Several persons gave up any pretence at trying to learn crochet very early on and Merlinith had to tell them either to pick up their hooks, or to sling them… but by that time, those who had come solely for a glimpse of the famed Oropher had filled their eyes enough and so were happy to apologise and find reasons to return to the camp. Of those who stayed, many are in a dreadful tangle… one ellon even managed to crochet his own hair into the work… but we untangled him without mishap…’

‘I understand your lord’s return has been eagerly anticipated.’

‘Yes, indeed, and it is heart-warming to see how they welcome him. Yet it pains me how bewildered he is that they do not hold him responsible for their past pain… he’s not a bad sort, you know, just… out of touch… don’t mind him, please…!’

This last was said with such eager hope that Thel hastened to assure her.

‘For Oropher was ever abrupt in the Halls, and we experienced the same sort of confusion ourselves on leaving as your husband has exhibited recently,’ he said.

‘Modern elves talk of something called “culture shock”, which sounds a bit like the same thing,’ Glorfindel said. ‘It wasn’t really what he said, just… something it made me think he meant that upset me. He couldn’t have known. So, was there anything else?’

‘There is,’ Erymes said, tipping her head. ‘My son has told me to pass on an invitation for you to dine with us this evening…’

‘Very kind, but we can’t,’ Fin said quickly. ‘Can’t leave the goats.’

‘But, surely, for an hour or two…?’

‘No.’ Fin shook his head. ‘It’s not possible. Not tonight.’

‘If you cannot, then you cannot,’ the lady replied, shaking her head and spreading her hands. ‘But are you sure? Is there not another who could tend your goats for you?’

‘It is most generous,’ Thel put in, supporting his husband on principle, if not entirely understanding Fin’s reluctance. ‘But it is a little too short notice; we already have made arrangements. We are most grateful, of course.’

‘Well, I…’ She broke off, sipped at her cordial to compose herself. ‘Of course. My son sometimes forgets that other people have plans, too. But you see, I had hoped… we thought the next step would be if Oropher were to come back to the camp with me – I am sure it would do him good, he could dine with us and then return here… but if you are not free, then I do not know if we can proceed…’

‘Take him with you by all means,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Keep him, if you like…’

‘I am not sure…’

‘Let Oropher return with you, and if he is relaxed and comfortable through the afternoon, then why should he not dine with you, and stay, if it is everyone’s wish?’ Ecthelion said. ‘Otherwise, let him be escorted back here by a few Silvans; he remembers Commander Thiriston from the guard, and he and Commander Canadion I am sure would be delighted to be his honour guard…’

‘Well, that is an alternative… but to have you there when we did so would have been useful, my son said…’

‘I see. And Glorfindel and I dining with you this evening would have helped how?’

‘Well, we had intended to broach a suggestion to Oropher which has already been discussed amongst the family; Oropher values your judgement, he does indeed, and… well, we think it is an excellent idea and the next stage in his recovery… but if he is unwilling, your opinion could make all the difference… Thranduil really hoped you would support us in this…’

‘Might have known it’d be Thranduil’s doing, whatever it is,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Don’t mistake – I like the fellow, he was very understanding when I had a falling out with a former employer… but there are limits… We’ll see what Oropher says about it tomorrow and tell him what we think, if he wants to know. Will that do? Only we’re busy. Aren’t we, Thel?’

‘In fact, yes; we have an appointment later today which we cannot miss,’ Ecthelion said with measured calm. ‘Oropher will have our opinion, if he seeks our advice; the only difference will be that your son will not be there to witness our response. But then, if it is Oropher who asks, then really the presence of his son is irrelevant.’

Erymes sighed and rose to her feet. 

‘I am grateful for the refreshments, but, frankly, I am disappointed; we expected more from you.’

‘Yes,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Everyone does. Everyone always has; that’s why I’ve died twice and Thel’s died once and I’m beginning to think people always will expect more from us. But we’re getting very near to the point where there isn’t any more. ’

It looked as if Erymes was about to retort, but Glorfindel’s outburst had disturbed the sleeping kid which now woke, bleating, and its dam hastened to investigate, nudging Glorfindel in the ribs and providing the perfect excuse for Ecthelion to go over, for Fin to look away from the queen, and by the time the kid was feeding and order was restored, Erymes had perhaps thought better of it.

‘None could ever doubt your valour, service and sacrifice, my lords,’ she said with a delicate gesture. ‘I will leave you to your work.’


	28. 'Back to Normal...'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oropher asks Glorfindel and Ecthelion for advice...

‘I wasn’t too rude, was I, Thel?’ Fin asked once Erymes had departed. ‘That is, I wasn’t happy with what she said, and I had to say something, and I didn’t really care if what I was saying was a bit rude, but then, it wasn’t she who said it, really, but Thranduil, so it wouldn’t be right to be too rude and she is a queen…’

‘Although she is not our queen,’ Ecthelion said. ‘You were hardly rude at all, in fact; you were simply expressing yourself. But, alas, it would not do to be caught out in an excuse… let me see, you said we cannot leave the goats, and I said there was an appointment later… so that presupposes we do not have to be out all night, but to be back before the staff leave for the night – which would make it late enough that getting to the camp for supper would be awkward…’ He sighed. ‘It would have been so much simpler had Lady Erymes not pushed! I shall need to inspect the huts used during lambing at some point shortly; the arrival of Dancing Queen and Prince Charming reminds me the sheep will be birthing soon… we could make an evening of it, ensure the facilities are equally comfortable after dark as before…’

‘That sounds like fun.’

‘Good. Then that shall be our destination and on our return we shall bed down with the goats again.’

‘And it will be your turn to go up the ladder first and my turn to ogle!’

Thel laughed and picked up his cushion flute, beginning to play softly. The kids were interested in the sound at first, but not startled and, of course, Gassy Galadriel was well-used to Thel’s playing.

It wasn’t long, however, before a little stream of visitors wishing to look at the kids interrupted the music. One of the first of these was Araspen, who made gentle cooing noises and whose eyes grew moist at the sight of the babies. 

‘You will think me very silly,’ she said, blinking a few times. ‘But they are so sweet…’

‘Not at all,’ Thel said politely. ‘New life is always wonderful.’

‘Yes.’ She smiled and collected herself. ‘Now, I am charged with a message… more of a suggestion, or a request…’

‘What, another one?’ Fin said. ‘No, sorry, don’t mind me, just being grumpy today…’

‘It is… normally, we lunch here, and it is lovely of you to have us. But there are so many today, Merlinith and I thought we should take everyone back to the camp; your housekeeper has promised to feed us cake in a little while, which is kind, so we shan’t starve!’

‘We’re happy to have you two,’ Glorfindel said, ‘just send the rest of the class home, why not?’

‘Well… perhaps… in our place… Lady Erymes might stay? I know Oropher wants to spend time with her, but he does not know how to ask, and then, he might think, he is your guest, it is not his place to invite her himself…’

Ecthelion glanced at his husband. It was a good idea, really, if Fin didn’t mind… but with his mood still obviously fragile…

‘No, I don’t mind, Thel,’ Fin said with a shrug. ‘But it’d be better if Araspen and Merlinith stay too, you know. Send the rest packing. It’ll make it more normal… no, that’s not what I mean… I mean, it’s more what Oropher’s got used to, you two staying for the day meal.’

‘Thank you, then, that’s kind,’ Araspen said. ‘And my thanks, too, for letting me greet your new babies; but I will return, now, for I think Celeguel said she wanted to see…’

*

The day meal was quieter than usual, the more formal air caused by a slight hesitancy on the part of Lady Erymes and cautious silence lest he lose his temper again on Fin’s; it was mostly left to Ecthelion to carry on the conversation, which he did mostly with Merlinith and Araspen. Oropher, unaware of the undertones but still careful lest he offend his friends again, spoke mostly to his wife.

Once the meal was cleared and Merlinith and Araspen beginning to look around for stray crochet hooks, Erymes laid her hand on her husband’s arm.

‘Oropher,’ she began, ‘will you take me on a tour of the gardens, while our friends are getting ready?’

‘Well, I would, my girl, but I don’t really know them that well…’

Erymes pressed her lips together in exasperation, but before she could say anything, Glorfindel came to her rescue.

‘What your lady means, Oropher, is she wants to go off with you for a bit. A chat, I expect. In the fresh air. And she doesn’t want it to look like it’s private, but you two could do with a bit of private time, I expect. Only not too private, you might frighten people…’

‘…and what my husband means,’ Ecthelion put in smoothly, trying not to laugh at Fin’s explanation and the alarmed look on Erymes’ face, ‘is that the fountain looks delightful in the early afternoon light, and there is seating close at hand.’

‘And we can find our own way to the camp, my lady,’ Merlinith added. ‘So do not think you need hurry.’

‘How thoughtful! Yes, a splendid plan! Although I cannot be too long,’ the queen added. ‘For I happen to know our hosts have an appointment which they cannot defer.’

Her eyes looked a challenge and Ecthelion bowed, a polite smile on his face.

‘We do not need to leave until mid-afternoon, in fact. And glorious though the fountain be, I doubt it will occupy you for more than two hours… do not worry about us.’

‘When we get to the camp, we can send an escort out for you, my lady, if that helps,’ Araspen added. 

Her gentle tones seemed to break into the brittle, good-mannered sparring and Erymes replied with real warmth in her voice.

‘That won’t be necessary, my dear; you and your Merlinith set off whenever you like; I shall be fine.’

*

With Oropher and Erymes headed towards the fountain area, and Merlinith and Araspen taking their leave, Ecthelion and Glorfindel walked through the house together.

‘It’s nice, seeing it empty,’ Fin said. ‘Knowing it’s just us, and the staff. Back to normal.’ He paused to open a door and looked in. ‘Oh, apart from a room full of Silvan luggage, of course…’

‘I am sure the luggage will disappear, in due course,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Come, I want to sit on the veranda with you and look out to sea.’

‘Bring your flute? The proper, big flute this time? And I’ll have a word with Lalbes, shall I, tell her we’ll want a late supper leaving and something for the afternoon…’

‘Thank you, my joy, that would be very helpful.’

It was pleasant, looking out across the moving waters, the air filled with soft surf sounds in harmony with the flute, and the time passed easily. Fin smiled and, in a pause of the music, voiced his thought.

‘I never thought before, how special this is; I’ve always been watching for a ship, somewhere at the back of my mind. This is much better, I can really feel the music and the love in it now, Thel.’

‘It is for you, my light. Always.’

‘Then I’m sorry I missed any of it, love. I suppose you’ve already thought, but… we won’t need to stay at home now, will we? I mean, once the kids are bigger, and the lambing’s over… we really could go to New Gondolin.’

‘If you wish, golden love. Or we are invited to visit Erestor and Arveldir whenever we like.’

‘I think that might be better. For a first journey. Not that I don’t want to see New Gondolin, but… well. They might expect us to stay, or something. And this is home now.’

Thel smiled and played a melody he’d learned from the music box which spoke of how there was no place like home… Fin laughed and joined in, and when Thel moved the tune easily into ‘Heroes Coming Home’ looked round and saw Oropher approaching from the beach.

‘Company, Thel, love.’

Oropher raised a hand in greeting and as the music ceased, nodded.

‘That’s more what I expect when I think of you playing the flute, Ecthelion,’ he said. ‘Far more impressive than that little thing you were blowing the other night.’

‘Ah, well, sometimes I like a change. Erymes has gone, then?’

‘Yes. Asked me to go back with her. Nearly did. Lost my nerve. Walked her along the path, some distance, talked a bit. She’s got an idea, and, well. Been thinking about it. Opinions welcome, but first, got something for you, Glorfindel. When you’re done here, that is. No hurry.’

‘In fact, we will be leaving in a little while,’ Ecthelion said. ‘But if you will give me time to stow my flute…’

‘I’ll wait by the fountain, then.’

*

Oropher was pacing when they joined him and eyed the basket Fin was swinging with alarm.

‘What’s that for?’

‘Us,’ Fin said. ‘We’ve something we have to do later, only it’s a long walk, and we won’t be back at proper dinner time.’

‘I see. Erymes said you might suddenly find yourselves free tonight. Don’t know what she meant, really.’ Oropher sighed. ‘It seems there is much I do not understand at present.’

‘Shall we sit?’ Ecthelion gestured towards the table where they usually broke their fast. ‘It may be easier, if there is something you wish to discuss…’

Once settled at the table, Oropher pulled at his tunic and cleared his throat once or twice.

‘Are you well, Oropher?’ Glorfindel asked.

‘Yes, fine, perfectly fine, nothing wrong with me, don’t need a healer, not one, let alone be surrounded by a bunch of them…’

‘I think my husband meant simply that you seem unsettled,’ Ecthelion said. ‘You are certainly not ill, my friend, but has someone said anything to make you think otherwise?’

‘No, no! Erymes said, there’s a place. Not her idea, she said, but she thought it was a good one. A retreat. Up where the healers all work, you know, Lady Estë’s lands… there’s places to stay, if you need to. With Healers around, and they think a few days there, with Erymes…’

Ecthelion lifted his head. Was this the plan for which the queen had wanted his support?

‘Would you not like a few days with your wife, away from the bustle of the camp?’ he asked. ‘Your lady has had many cares, and a respite from her responsibilities might be of benefit to her…’

‘I would, yes, more than anything, I want to spend time with her, talking and… there’s a lot to say. But it’s not like for you and Glorfindel, you had all that time in the Halls to do your talking…’

‘Yes,’ Fin began, ‘but…’

‘And don’t be reminding me it’s my own fault. I know it now. Didn’t know at the time what I was doing, though. That wasn’t good of me. But I thought I was making penance. Anyway. Yes. There’s a lot to say and I want to be with her, to start making amends there. If I can do that, perhaps my Silvans will come to forgive me, if they see my queen has.’

‘Oropher, how often do you need to be told? Your Silvans have always forgiven you. Or have found nothing to forgive. It is more, I think… you need to forgive yourself.’ Ecthelion glanced at Glorfindel, knowing the words would make sense to him, as well. ‘Those who love you and serve you see nothing that needs pardoning. They simply want you back amongst them once more.’

‘Well, I… those I’ve met have been kind,’ Oropher admitted. ‘Erymes says… there’s a lot to sort out, but it’s not a question of forgiveness or atonement. She thought it was a workable plan. Thranduil’s idea, I think, or that new wife of his… she was a Healer, you know, she can’t help herself, wanting to make everything better. Do you know her, at all? You might like her.’

‘She came to supper last night, Oropher,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Or do you not recall?’

‘Well…’

‘I knew her back in the Greenwood,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Nestoril. I’ve worked with her, and I travelled as her escort once. She’s nice.’

‘Nice?’

‘Good at what she does, really cares about people, wants to help. Liked the traditional ways of healing.’ Glorfindel shrugged. ‘Better than me at some things. I’d say you could trust her to have your well-being at heart.’

‘It is just the thought of being with healers,’ Oropher said. ‘With Erymes, yes, but I’m not ill…’

‘No, of course not. Elves do not become ill,’ Ecthelion agreed. ‘And yet…’

‘Could not Erymes come to stay with us?’ Oropher suggested. ‘Consider; if…’

‘No.’

‘No!’ Ecthelion’s rebuttal was much brusquer than Fin’s, surprising his husband who grinned at him. ‘No, Oropher, we do not have the facilities for a lady to live amongst us, or the ability to properly support you through the emotional impact which would surely follow her arrival.’

‘Anyway,’ Fin put in, ‘the walls are not soundproofed.’

‘I had noticed,’ Oropher said. ‘However…’

‘It really is too much to ask,’ Ecthelion said. ‘It is a time when you will need privacy together; there is always someone around, at night, we are invariably home, during the day, the staff are present…’

‘Servants don’t count,’ Oropher said. ‘But I thought… ‘

‘They count to us,’ Fin said. ‘They’ve been very kind to us, Lalbes and Bruiven, and to just expect them to cope with yet another elf to look after…’

‘But I’m not ill! I don’t need to be near healers, there is nothing wrong with me, I am fine, perfectly fine! Back to normal!’

‘Did not you just say that there were many things you did not understand lately?’ Ecthelion asked in gentle tones. ‘And forget that Nestoril had dined with us?’

‘And, not to be unkind, Oropher, but did you know you’ve got an extra loop at the top of your tunic on one side and a spare hook on the other?’

‘It’s… I was in a hurry! And… I have worn clothes every day since that first morning…’

‘Yes, but mostly because Bruiven stands outside your door and says, “Has my lord remembered that leggings are not optional at breakfast…?” I’ve heard him,’ Glorfindel said with a grin. ‘So don’t try to deny it! Still,’ he added. ‘You’re a lot better than you used to be.’

‘What should I do? Go to this retreat, put myself in the hands of strangers? How will that be of use?’

‘Erymes isn’t a stranger, is she?’ Fin said. ‘And I think people are probably just trying to help, though. Up to you whether you let them or not.’

‘Need to think on it, I think. That’s why I didn’t go back with Erymes, thought there might be all manner of persons there, waiting to carry me off whether I would or no…’ Oropher gave a sigh and made a vague gesture. ‘Thought she was trying to recruit you to the cause.’

‘We have no cause,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Other than to care for each other, and our livestock, and try to assist our friends as they need us. It is true Erymes had hoped we would dine at the camp this evening – all of us – but we explained it was not possible.’

‘Funny thing, she didn’t think you’d anything planned. Not really. But… you could have supported me.’

Ecthelion did not think it would be helpful, at this point, to mention Erymes had hoped he and Fin would have supported her…

‘We would not like to see you persuaded against your wish, of course,’ he said. ‘Personally, I have heard only good things of the healers here, working as they are directly for Lady Estë.’

‘My grandson, Legolas. They seem to have helped him. He might know if it’s safe.’

‘Safe?’ Glorfindel queried.

‘You know what I mean. It’s hard to put yourself in the hands of strangers.’

Glorfindel sighed.

‘Yes, yes, it is,’ he said. ‘But I’m sure nobody would try to keep you against your will.’

Oropher nodded. ‘Good. Thought you’d understand.’

‘I suggest you consider the matter this evening,’ Ecthelion said. ‘We will be back later, and if you wish to talk more then…’

‘Although we will be bedding down near the kids tonight,’ Glorfindel said. ‘So it won’t be all night…’

‘The kids…yes, that reminds me; I said I had something for you… made you this, Glorfindel.’

With an abrupt motion Oropher pulled a bundle of brightly coloured crochet from his pocket and thrust it towards Fin who almost backed away in surprise. Recovering himself, he took the offering and hold it up for inspection; it proved to be two long tubes, twisting around, tapering towards the ends and joined with a diamond shaped panel decorated with little tassels. 

‘Er… for me?’

‘When I say “for you”, rather, I mean for Evil-Eyed El… it is a horn cosy.’

The absurdity of the gift took hold of Ecthelion and he struggled not to laugh. From the gleam in Glorfindel’s eye, he was not unaware of the farcicality of the moment himself.

‘Of course it is. What lovely colours, he’ll look very… distinguished with these on. Well. Singular, certainly. Thank you. It must have taken hours.’

‘Well, several mornings. Had to make sure it would be long enough.’

‘Oh, I’m sure it will be fine…’

‘Can I try it on him? Do you think he’ll let me?’

‘Shall we see?’ Fin said.

Talking Thel’s hand, he gestured Oropher to proceed, and they set off towards Evil-Eyed El’s enclosure. The billy came over, expecting treats, and so was a little taken aback when Oropher vaulted the fence and began pursuing him, the horn-cosy trailing from his hands in a cacophony of colour.

Glorfindel leaned on the fence and grinned at Ecthelion, who was trying hard not to laugh at the spectacle as the erstwhile king of the Greenwood dodged and wove around the field shouting after the goat.

‘Of course he’s fine, perfectly fine,’ Fin said. ‘Back to normal. Nothing wrong with him!’

Across the enclosure, Oropher commanded Evil-Eyed El to stand still and come and get his nice present at once...

‘Of course not,’ Ecthelion agreed. ‘Completely back to normal.’


	29. Helping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fin and Thel return from their evening to find Oropher has company...

It was late by the time Ecthelion and Glorfindel set off for home. Their afternoon and evening had been spent investigating the condition of several of the nearest of the towable shepherd’s huts on their pastures, a good, long lope away from the villa. Thel had laughed when Glorfindel had set the first hut to bouncing on its sturdy wheels and declared it probably safe for all but the most adventurous of shepherds, and they had climbed up to the curved roof of the second shelter to lie holding hands and enjoying the stars for an hour before moving on to the last hut of the trip. 

Remembering the food Lalbes had sent with them, they sat cross-legged facing each other as they picnicked on the dome of the third hut, Glorfindel smiled as much as he ate.

‘This is lovely, Thel,’ he said. ‘Just us and the sky and a few sheep somewhere…’

‘I adore that smile on you, my glorious joy. It tells me you are rested and content.’

‘More, Thel, love; I’m happy, at peace. And you in the shine of the starlight, it’s what Lord Eru made the stars for, I think, to light up your lovely skin and dance through your hair.’

‘Flatterer.’ Ecthelion hugged the compliment to his heart. ‘The light makes your wonderful golden tresses gleam more softly and makes me long to stroke them…’

‘Stroke away,’ Fin said with a grin and a shake of said wonderful golden hair. ‘But don’t we have to go back and check on the kids tonight?’

‘Another thing I love about you is how seriously you take your responsibilities to your livestock. Yes, my darling, we need to be getting back. And once we have made sure Oropher has not managed to burn the villa down while we have been gone, then we can settle in the goat-shed for the night; it will be delightful!’

*

‘And the house is still standing!’ Glorfindel laughed, swinging his hand in Thel’s as they approached the villa. Although a lantern gleamed in the window of their suite, set there by Bruiven, and another lamp shone from the kitchens, the rest of the villa was in darkness. ‘What’s this? Has he gone to bed or taken to sitting in the dark?’

‘In the kitchens, perchance. Shall we investigate?’

Laughter rang out as the entered the villa; two male voices, one deep, the other less so, but bright and happy. Fin grinned at Thel as he reached the doorway first.

‘Company! Legolas, Govon, is that you lurking in there?’

‘They are hardly lurking,’ Oropher said, leaning forward in his seat to eye his newly-returned hosts with the remains of a smile on his face. ‘My grandson and his spouse come to visit me; you have met – and no, that is not a question, but a statement; I have not forgotten and was but reminding you!’

Fin laughed; it was the nearest thing to a joke he’d ever heard from Oropher.

‘Well met, Legolas, Govon. Has he been looking after you properly?’

‘I think we may have eaten your supper,’ Legolas said apologetically. ‘And there was still some cake left; Govon thought it his duty to help eat it up…’

‘Very kind,’ Ecthelion said, smiling as Govon shrugged and nodded.

‘Now, Glorfindel, Mistress Lalbes says to tell you that Bruiven reports the kids fed well and Gassy Galadriel is in fine health. He saw them settled for the night. When I queried to Lalbes whether goats do not manage to raise their kids alone in general, she was so good as to point out to me that when one has responsibility for a creature, one takes every chance to see it is properly cared for. “That goes for goats, former warriors reborn, chickens and even grumpy old kings,” she added, which was me told, I fear… I sent a note to my grandson, asking his opinion of conditions in this place of healing…’

‘It seemed easier to come over,’ Legolas said. ‘Though I’m surprised you couldn’t tell Daerada yourselves what it was like in Lady Estë’s lands.’

‘We were never there,’ Ecthelion said. 

‘But… I thought everyone who spends too long in the Halls of Mandos go to Lady Estë for a while?’

‘Not in our case. We emerged from the Halls to find Lord Elrond waiting for us; he invited Glorfindel, and by association, me, to join him and for Glorfindel to take up his former station. Then he saw our degree of intimacy…’

‘You can’t really touch in the Halls, you see,’ Glorfindel put in. ‘Couldn’t help myself, but I think Elrond didn’t approve.’

‘…and for some reason, Elrond decided we would not be an asset in his new Happy Valley. Now, it may be that any offers of assistance in helping us adapt had been given over to him to make. Or simply it was felt, well, we had each other. But for whatever reason, no, we have never had cause to visit the Healing Vales.’

‘Well, that explains a lot – I mean, why Daerada asked my opinion, of course.’ Legolas grinned, spreading his hands in silent apology lest his remark had been misinterpreted. ‘I was saying, though, that all I knew about it was waking up and Govon was there, and I felt more like myself than I had for centuries.’

‘For me, they seemed to look after Legolas with respect and real care,’ Govon added. ‘But nobody pushed us, or rushed us, or any of that.’

‘Besides, Daerada, as I say – Feril is there, Tharmeduil’s wife. You know, my next brother.’

Oropher glanced across, his expression one Ecthelion recognised as the old king desperately trying to remember something he felt he ought not have forgotten. Ever the perfect host, he stepped into the breach.

‘Glorfindel, you know Tharmeduil better than I; you travelled with him, I understand?’

‘Yes. He wasn’t well during our last journey together, sadly; it’s good to know he’s well again. I liked him.’ Glorfindel grinned at Oropher. ‘It’s a lot of names all at once, and so many faces to put to them. Don’t worry, it’ll come. Feril I knew, too. Very strong on traditional Silvan rituals. Surprised at how well she could get them to work, really. So it sounds as though you’d be among friends, if you decided to go.’

‘True.’ Oropher sighed. ‘And yet, I am with friends here…’

‘It’s getting late,’ Legolas said. ‘So, if you’ll excuse us, we’d better go. Daerada, think about it, but don’t worry about it. Lord Ecthelion, Lord Glorfindel thank you for your hospitality.’

‘Even if you didn’t know about it,’ Govon added, grinning as he got to his feet. ‘Good night, Daerada-in-Honour.’

‘Let me walk you out,’ Ecthelion said, seeing Legolas hesitate and look in his direction. ‘It was kind of you to keep Oropher company.’

‘Thank you. There was something I wanted to mention… you’ve been kindly storing some luggage for some of us…’

A snort from behind; Oropher. Legolas grimaced and hastened out.

‘Yes, thank you, Daerada…’ he muttered. ‘You can probably guess what his opinion is of wood-elves bringing luggage with them across the seas…’

‘Glorfindel tells tales of the upheaval when Elrond sailed; wagons full of fine furnishings and delicate household treasures… ah, and robes… compared to that, your few items are very few indeed…’

‘Well, yes, but Daerada says… he wanted us to go back to a simpler way of living. Of course, he’s no idea what it was like… everything changed so very quickly the last two or three hundred years and, yes, I appreciate, we ought to live simply but, well… we did, really. At least, compared to those around us… ’ Legolas gave himself a shake. ‘Why I wanted a word – away from Daerada’s opinions – now we’ve been landed a while, some of us are rethinking if we actually need all this stuff anyway. Nestoril says that’s natural; when you don’t have people around you, when you don’t feel safe, sometimes you collect things instead. But when you get to where you feel safe, you realise you don’t need the things any more. So, as we’re planning on breaking camp, would you mind if some of my fellow-travellers were to come and look through their luggage? Not all at once, of course; we don’t want to invade your home…’

‘Yes, or course they may come. Perhaps if you send someone to organise them, however… and might I ask, if it is decided there are items no longer needed, will alternative storage be found…?’

‘You’ve been amazingly good about everything; you look after our stuff, you look after our old king… we can’t thank you enough. Yes, it’s all arranged; Baudh, Canadion’s brother, he says he’ll keep hold of anything we don’t take; we won’t leave you in mess, I promise!’

‘Baudh is somewhat of a friend here. That is reassuring, I must say; I am not sure for how much longer I can prevent Glorfindel from trying out your father’s bicycle…’

Legolas laughed. ‘I think, if nothing else is collected, the bicycle will be; it was a gift, you see.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I wanted to say, you and Glorfindel – we’re very grateful. If last night – and tonight – is anything to go by, my grandfather hasn’t been an easy guest…’

‘Ah…’ Ecthelion waved a hand. ‘He is our friend, and friends are forgiven much…’

‘Yes, but… just so that you know; I haven’t tried to talk him into going to this retreat. I think it would be the best thing for him, and Grandmother, and, well, everyone, really, we’re all worried about him. Except if he doesn’t want to go, it won’t do him any good at all… I won’t ask what you think.’

‘For which I am most grateful, since either Lady Erymes or Lord Oropher would be most offended by my reply.’

‘Fair enough. But… if it were up to you, how would you go about getting him to decide to go?’

‘In fact, I would not. I would simply wait, and leave it to Oropher to determine whether or not it would be in his best interests. It may simply be that he is a little afraid… but one thing we all know about your grandfather, Legolas – he does not lack courage.’

Legolas nodded, moved closer to Govon, and set off down the path towards the camp. Exhaling deeply, Ecthelion turned back to the house, where Glorfindel was waiting in the kitchen.

‘Oropher’s turned in. Said he had a lot to think about. And there’s no supper left, so if you’re hungry we’ll have to raid the larder…’

Ecthelion shook his head and moved into Glorfindel’s embrace.

‘No, beloved, I am fine. Shall we go and see how the new family is?’

‘That’s a fine idea; a bottle of wine and a couple of cups, it’ll be a lovely way to spend the night.’

*

The kids were asleep, curled up against their dam who flickered her ears at them when they entered. Fin put his arm around Thel and cuddled him in, smiling up at him happily.

‘They all seem very content,’ he said. ‘Your turn up the ladder first, my love.’

‘Ah, you remembered…’

‘Muscles like you’ve got, Thel, how could I forget…? Especially in the new jeans. I can’t wait for them to come back from laundering…’

They settled amongst the cushions and blankets, slowly divesting each other of their garments, sharing the wine and relaxing into each other, close and closer, enjoying the intimacy of the hay loft. Just before reverie took him, Glorfindel lifted his head from Ecthelion’s chest.

‘It’s a shame really, isn’t it, Thel? We’ve got each other and Oropher – well, he’s got Erymes, only he hasn’t got her back yet. Not really. Can’t help feeling sorry for the old fellow, even if it is his fault.’

‘I know, my joy. But what can we do? If all his friends are seen to be pushing him, he will simply dig in his heels and refuse; you know the only reason Evil-Eyed-El does as Oropher bids him is because he recognises the king as even more stubborn than he is; no, I agree. But all we can do is wait for Oropher to decide what he wants. Then, perhaps, we can help.’

Glorfindel sighed and cuddled in again.

‘We already have helped,’ he said. ‘I just don’t know how much more we can do.’


	30. Oropher Decides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oropher makes up his mind...

But next morning, Oropher seemed in need of nobody’s assistance.

He appeared at the breakfast table in the garden properly attired, braids neat and secured with matching clasps, all the fastenings on his tunic aligned correctly, and made a real effort to add to the morning conversation by asking after the kids.

‘I do not enquire whether my friend Evil-Eyed El is still adorned with his horn cosy, for Bruiven informed me this morning that two of the nannies took a liking to the colours and ate them from his head… ah, well. It is fortunate I used natural fibres, and not that awful synthesised yarn; it is fine for when one is learning stitches, but, I fear, less good for caprine digestive systems…’

Glorfindel laughed, shaking his head. ‘That would be Other Berúthiel and Princess Idril, those two will eat anything…! Well, they say it’s the thought that counts.’ 

‘On the subject of thinking,’ Oropher began after a short pause. ‘I have been running matters over in my mind and wondering whence comes my reluctance to accept this offer of time in seclusion. Whether it is because I do not wish to leave here, my friends, or if I do not wish to go there… but you see, when first I emerged from the Halls, I felt such confusion… my son I knew, of course, but here was this stranger, this… this elleth telling me I needed time with Healers and I had no notion of who she was, or by what right she said these things…’

He gestured softly with one hand.

‘You have been patient hosts, and I am aware that I have not been the happiest of guests…’ He paused, as if waiting for them to refute his statement, continuing with a wry smile when neither Glorfindel nor Ecthelion commented. ‘I have not quite come to a decision yet,’ he went on. ‘But I am nearer than I was; no longer do I feel quite such dread as I did at first.’

‘I think, if you can approach the decision without fear, you are more likely to make the right choice,’ Ecthelion said. ‘By which I mean, of course, the correct decision for you, not for other people. Even those who want the best for us cannot know everything that is in our hearts.’

‘Well, I will think about it some more while I am crocheting. Since it seems any gift I make for the goats is likely to be eaten, what do you say to a linen-stitch waistcoat, Glorfindel?’

‘I would say that is impossibly generous of you, Oropher,’ Ecthelion said hastily before his husband could agree and potentially end up with something garishly inappropriate for his golden beauty. ‘Glorfindel is far too well-mannered to say so, of course… perhaps you could make something charming for your son, instead?’

‘In fact, I have a selection of linen stitch squares already made; I may have time for both…’

*

Politely waiting to greet Merlinith and Araspen, Ecthelion and Fin were able to witness Oropher’s disappointment that Erymes had not joined them.

‘But she sends her best regards, and hopes to see you soon,’ Araspen said. ‘And while we are here, we should get our luggage out of the way, for we have arranged lodgings in town for when we disperse.’

‘You do not wish to see the forests of Lord Oromë?’ Oropher asked, his tone mildly disapproving. Merlinith laughed.

‘Of course we do! But not yet. And we have the offer of a business arrangement which will suit us very well; we did not come here with the intention of sitting in trees like a pair of feckless squirrels! No, plenty of time for that later.’

‘Besides, I have always wished to be near the sea,’ Araspen added.

‘It is rather wonderful,’ Ecthelion said, smiling. ‘In fact, since we found this spot, we have never wanted to be anywhere else. Enjoy your morning; we will see you at lunch, no doubt.’

*

‘Have you something in mind, Thel?’ Glorfindel asked as he followed Thel through the house. ‘Goats, perhaps…?’

‘Ah, in fact, I was rather thinking of something else… except it seems there is company.’

He gestured to where Lalbes had just opened the door to Commanders Thiriston and Canadion behind whom a little knot of Silvans were gathered.

‘Our friends have come to begin to reclaim their belongings,’ Canadion was explaining. ‘If it will not be an intrusion; I think we are expected...’

‘Well, I am not sure… I must ask my lords…’

‘We arranged last night with Prince Legolas, Mistress Lalbes,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Everyone, do come in. Canadion, follow me; Lalbes, perhaps you or Bruiven can assist presently… And so, Canadion, what arrangements are there, do you know?’

‘It is all a little vague at present,’ Canadion said. ‘Some do not wish to go to Lord Oromë’s enclaves, but to live near the town and the sea… my ada and honour-ada will stay with my brother Baudh, for instance, at least for a while… I do not think anyone has really thought yet what to do about the things they will leave behind, of course, we will not leave anything here, it is not fair! My brother has said he will store things, but as to who will take them to him and when… in short, we are being a terrible nuisance… When I get back to camp, I will mention the need for collection of remaining items to Parvon, who is meant to be organising everything.’

‘And yet, I did not notice Parvon amongst your company…?’

‘No, well, he organised Thiriston and I to come and begin; we are particularly charged with escorting the Royal Bicycle, as Prince Legolas calls it, back to the camp, overseeing those of our company who are here and to find out when is convenient for others to come.’

Lalbes’ looming presence interrupted. 

‘If you will excuse me, my lord, but the basket you require is ready for you...’

‘It is?’

Curious, Ecthelion followed Lalbes into the kitchens while she muttered on in her usual fashion.

‘…it’s high time you took Lord Glorfindel swimming, I know he loves his goats, but he needs more sun on his skin than he gets in that goat shed, and you know it makes him happy and that makes you happy… so here are towels – you will want to collect his swimwear – drinks and something if he gets hungry after the water. Go on, it will do you both good, and if you are not back for the day meal, well, that’s all right, if you’re having a nice morning, there’s plenty of food… and if you want to say it’s your idea to go swimming, that’s fine by me…’

‘Mistress Lalbes, you are entirely a treasure. I had been on the point of suggesting it to my husband when I saw we had company…’

‘Of course you were, my lord.’

Collecting Fin’s things from the bedroom and his own sketching things and adding them to the basket, Ecthelion sought Glorfindel, who had retreated once more to the goat shed.

‘Most beloved and shining one, I have with me towels, your swimwear, and sundry other accompaniments which should make for a pleasant morning by the sea, if you would like to walk with me to your cove; it seems like ages since I saw you swim…’

‘Really? That’s a wonderful idea, Thel, and the kids are doing so well, I’m sure they’ll be fine by themselves for a little while…’

‘I am sure Bruiven will look in on them, my light. Shall we?’

He held out his hand and Glorfindel plaited his fingers with Thel’s. The contact was familiar and comforting, and Ecthelion smiled at the love in the touch.   
Fin bumped shoulders and grinned.

‘Suddenly I can’t wait to get into the water… shall we run?’

‘Whyever not?’

*

It was well past the time for the day meal when they returned to the villa, Glorfindel laughing about the salt and sand in his hair, Ecthelion promising to attend to the problem as soon as possible.

‘Which means if we hope to avoid company, we will need to enter through our own windows, beloved light…’

‘Won’t be the first time, will it?’

Washing the sand and salt out of Glorfindel’s hair was always a pleasure; today, with Fin leaning back against him, slick with soap and sliding everywhere under his hands, Ecthelion treasured each moment, each gasp and sigh, savoured every kiss and touch and stroke. They lingered in the bathing pool until Glorfindel’s stomach growled, making Ecthelion raise an eyebrow.

‘And after all the food Lalbes put up for us, too! Well, my sunlight, shall we go and see if there is anything in the larder?’

Emerging relaxed and content, they were not a little surprised to find the house in bit of a bustle.

‘There you are, my lords!’ Lalbes exclaimed, spotting them as she was hastening down the stairs. ‘I am glad you are home, but I did not want to spoil your day by sending for you…’

‘Is anything wrong?’ Ecthelion asked, and Glorfindel added:

‘Are the kids well?’

Lalbes huffed at Glorfindel.

‘Yes, yes, they are fine, goodness, my lord Glorfindel, you do make a fuss about the little baby animals! And no, my lord Ecthelion, nothing is wrong, just… everything has happened all at once instead of taking its turn nicely! So there Silvans everywhere, and we are to expect the Lord Oromë, so I am told, although I will believe it when I see it, and… but you must be wanting your day meal. Go to the garden table and it will be brought to you.’

‘Not like Lalbes to look flustered,’ Glorfindel said as he took Thel’s hand and led him towards the garden. ‘Did it seem to you that she wanted to get us out of the house?’

‘Perhaps a little. It is not as if we have been lurking indoors all morning, either.

‘Well, come on; you must be famished, I’m starving, and I know you let me eat more than my fair share of cake…’

‘But you were enjoying it so much! Ah, how interesting! Oropher appears to be waiting for us…’

‘Ecthelion, Glorfindel, I am glad you are here at last… what kept you?’

‘We had things to do,’ Ecthelion said vaguely. ‘How was your morning?’

‘Interesting, pleasant... But there is news which I have been waiting to share with you both…’ Oropher grimaced with impatience as Lalbes and Bruiven arrived to set the table and lay a meal for Ecthelion and Glorfindel. ‘Nothing for me, Lalbes?’

‘My lord, you did eat earlier, with the ladies…’

‘Yes, but… not even a glass for wine…?’

‘Have mine,’ Fin said, pushing his goblet over. ‘Thel and I can share.’

‘I will bring you a glass directly, Lord Glorfindel,’ Lalbes said. ‘I know you, you’ll take it straight from the bottle given the chance, and forget how much you’ve had!’

‘Thank you, Lalbes.’

Oropher’s impatience grew while Lalbes returned to the house, coming back with the said wine glass and another bottle which she set at Glorfindel’s side. Fin, mouth already full of food, nodded and mimed his thanks.

Ecthelion filled the glasses and took a small morsel of food. ‘So, Oropher, what is it you wish to share with us?’

‘It is simply that I have decided to accept Erymes’ invitation to this retreat.’

‘Well, glad you made your mind up, at last, one way or another,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Anything’s better than not knowing what to do, isn’t it?’

‘Indeed,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Might I ask what prompted this choice, my friend?’

‘Discussing matters with Merlinith this morning. She said, if she’d been away from her wife as long as I had mine, she’d be taking any chance to be alone with her. It gave me pause… I had not thought of it in that light and I realised that, once again, I was pushing Erymes away when I ought to be embracing her and this time I could not pretend it was because I was trying to pay penance.’ Oropher shrugged. ‘Do you think this is the right decision, my friends?’

‘I think it is more important that it is your decision,’ Ecthelion said. ‘You have not been forced into this, I hope? Or doing it because you believe it is what other persons want of you?’

‘Do not be ridiculous!’ Oropher replied with a hint of his usual acerbity. ‘I am always and ever my own ellon with my own opinions. Or did you think there was another reason that Gil and Elrond disliked me?’

‘As long as you’re happy with the idea,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Good. I think it’s good. Do you need help with packing, at all? When do you leave?’

‘Mistress Lalbes has already attended to that. Now I merely wait for my escort to arrive; I am promised an honour guard, and Lord Oromë himself will come… they say it is because he and his Maia friends will enable us to journey more swiftly…’ Oropher exhaled in a rather forceful sigh. ‘It is strange, I have not been here for many days, when one considers, and yet so much here has become important to me… not least, I must say, Glorfindel, your charming animals… perhaps you will excuse me for a time? Should my escort arrive, I will be talking to Evil-Eyed El.’

*

‘Alone at last!’ Glorfindel said with a grin at his husband, refilling the wine glasses. ‘That explains why Lalbes looked flustered, I suppose.’

‘Ai…!’ Ecthelion tipped back his head and allowed his eyes to close. ‘I think it will be pleasant to have the house to ourselves once more.’

‘Yes, it will. Won’t happen today though, will it, not with all these Silvans coming to claim their baggage.’ Glorfindel spread a piece of soft white bread with butter and honey, held it out to his husband. ‘Here. You hardly ate a thing while Oropher was talking, come along, you look half-starved, love…’

‘My thanks,’ Ecthelion accepted the morsel, taking Fin’s fingertips into his mouth as well as the sweet bread, sucking the honey from them. ‘Yes; I was not aware how difficult I find it when the house is in confusion. Other people’s confusion, that is.’

‘Well, it won’t be long before it’s back to normal. Oropher gone, Silvan luggage gone…’

‘Thranduil’s bicycle gone.’

‘That’s almost a shame; I’d have liked to have a go… Come along, have some cheese, I’m sure you’re starving…’

Once Ecthelion had eaten enough to satisfy Glorfindel that he wasn’t going to faint away on the spot (‘A very dramatic thing to do, Glorfindel, no, that is simply not my style…’) they returned to the house, proceeding with reserved stealth lest there be Silvans lurking.

They saw none, but evidence was everywhere; a little huddle of cases near the door to the storage room, a large, bicycle shaped hole that made Glorfindel sigh and Thel laugh even as he stroked his arm in consolation.

‘Perhaps we can find someone to build you one, beloved. Or maybe we should just get horses, if you want something to ride.’

The sigh became a laugh and a grin, but Fin’s intended cheeky reply was left unspoken as Lalbes appeared in the doorway.

‘If you please, my lords, now you have eaten, would you like to know how matters have progressed today…?’

‘Please, Lalbes, if you have a moment. Lord Oropher has shared his news; our thanks for the assistance given his preparations.’

‘It was a pleasure to help, my lord. Not that I mean I am glad he is leaving, although…’

‘A mixed blessing, perhaps; undoubtedly what he needs, but you are most attentive to our guests and I know you get attached…’

‘It will be simpler, my lords, to just have you two in my care; sometimes Lord Glorfindel is quite enough of a charge…’

‘Ah, Lalbes, you know you are almost a naneth to me…’

‘More like a keeper, sometimes…! Well. That aside, yes, as you can see, the Silvans have been busy. The items by the door have been selected for sending to Master Baudh in town. We do not know who will come for them, but I have said if they are not gone by the end of tomorrow, they will be placed outside at the bottom of the veranda steps and if Lord Ulmo sees fit to send an extra high tide to sweep them away, that is not our business… they have all gone off now, and will return to sort out the remainder of their clutter in the morning, for they wish to prepare a send-off for Lord Oropher, which seems foolish; can they not see he does not want a horde of wood-elves making a fuss about him…? However… we do not yet know when the escort will arrive, and the not knowing is most unhelpful!’

‘You have our sympathies, Mistress Lalbes, as well as our appreciation,’ Ecthelion said. ‘I suggest you try not to mind too much; take a moment to yourself, if you can. Fin and I will amuse ourselves this afternoon, but we will be interruptible, at need.’

‘Will we, Thel?’ Fin said. ‘That’s almost a shame…’

‘Well, you can spend time with Dancing Queen and Prince Charming, if you like; I have a drawing I would like to plan out for a larger work. Of course, if you would prefer to watch me work…?’

Fin sighed.

‘To be in two places at once… no, if you don’t mind, I’ll look in on the goats. Oropher might want someone to talk to, too, someone who will actually answer back.’

*

At the end of two hours, Ecthelion paused in his work and stretched. Around him his studio was filled with finished artwork displayed, works-in-progress, and all the paraphernalia of the sketcher and watercolour artist.

He had spent his time on a sketch painting of some of the drawings he’d made of Fin with the new-born kids; fascinated by the tenderness with which his husband had held the babies, he had focussed in on Glorfindel’s hands supporting Dancing Queen, showing the little one snuggling in and cradled safely in the strong, sure support. He hoped he had managed to capture the trust of the little animal, and the love in the touch, and vaguely wondered if Fin would understand the message in the work just for him, the ‘I love you, I feel safe with you, I put my fëa in your hands,’ but he doubted it; Glorfindel’s responses were usually on a representational level. It didn’t matter; Thel knew Fin’s fëa would read the love there, even if his eyes missed it.

‘That’s pretty,’ Glorfindel’s voice said from the doorway. ‘From here, the colours. Dancing Queen?’

The smile in Thel’s heart was still on his face when he turned and beckoned Glorfindel over. He snuggled into his husband’s enfolding arm and nodded against his strong chest.

‘Yes, my joy. She rested in your palms with such eagerness…’

‘It’ll be the warmth of my hands, of course. But I like this, I like how you’ve made the whole thing look warm and cosy and relaxed. Very restful. How you make me feel, if that’s not silly…’

‘Not silly at all, beloved.’

Fin turned in and kissed his cheek.

‘There’s been a message from the camp; they’re coming for Oropher after supper, just his honour guard, and they’ll take him down to where Lord Oromë will be waiting with Erymes. So we get to have one more meal with him, isn’t that nice?’

The exaggerated brightness of Glorfindel’s tone made Thel laugh.

‘Oh, my beloved light, and you have put yourself in the way of bearing him company while I played happily away…’

‘Well, it was my turn. But mostly he talked to El and I was with Gassy and the babies. Oh, and we’ve got time before we eat if we need to get changed and things, Lalbes said. Wonder what she meant, don’t you…?’

*

Supper was a subdued affair; Oropher was obviously nervous but trying to hide it, toying with his food rather than making inroads into it. Unprompted, he repeated more than once his certainty that this was the right course of action but that he hoped he would be able to visit their home again.

‘Of course,’ Ecthelion said. ‘You will be very welcome.’

‘And El will always be glad to see you,’ Glorfindel added. ‘So will we, of course. And mornings won’t be the same without a house full of crocheters.’

‘I think many things will be changed, when I return,’ Oropher said. ‘Not least myself.’

‘Don’t think of it as being changed,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Think of it as… unlocking a part of yourself that’s been kept quiet for too long. And if you’re not happy, you can always leave.’

The expected Silvan escort arrived a little while later, as Fin was pouring out the last of the good wine. Lalbes announced them.

‘Commanders Thiriston and Canadion, here for Lord Oropher,’ she said. ‘They are bringing the king’s mount to the back of the house. Bruiven is arranging the saddlebags.’

‘Thank you, Mistress Lalbes,’ Oropher said, draining his glass. ‘Please convey my thanks also to the rest of your staff. We will meet again one day, no doubt.’

‘Aye, Valinor is like that, my lord. Be well.’ 

Once the housekeeper had gone, Oropher turned to Glorfindel and Ecthelion. ‘Well, my friends… I do not quite know how to part from you…’

‘I think hugs might be appropriate, just this once,’ Fin said, approaching to give Oropher a brief, but well-meant shoulder hug. ‘You’ll be fine. If not, I’ll come to your rescue myself.’

‘Thank you. Ah… Ecthelion?’

Thel stepped forward, allowing Oropher to hug him. The king clung somewhat, and Thel looked in panic at Glorfindel as it seemed Oropher would drop his head onto Thel’s shoulder.

‘Ah… Oropher, old friend, there is a time limit on a hug, you know,’ Fin said, a laugh in his voice. ‘Any longer than three heartbeats and it starts to become a cuddle… and that’s my husband you’re cuddling there…’

‘I beg pardon.’ Oropher pulled away, looking down. He harrumphed a few times and sniffed. ‘I lost track, I think. Well. No doubt it is time; I understand they are sending Thiriston and Canadion to accompany me.’

Outside, Thiriston was holding the headstall of a fine red elk, although it was not Oropher’s steed that drew the eye, but the escort themselves; the big elf was wearing a kilt in dark blue plaid with yellow accents in the weave, his chest bare and his many scars outlined and decorated in a multitude of bright paints. Canadion was similarly clad, but his kilt, though in matching plaid, was cut in a different style and he had paired it with a narrow-strapped blouse in shades of blue and pink. One side of his face was covered in tiny painted flowers, and a leaf-and-vine decoration ran from the back of his hand up his arm. His boots, while suitable for riding, were of a very striking cerise leather with diamante tips to the buckles.

‘Well met, Lord King. We honour you tonight in the traditional way,’ Canadion said as Oropher stared at them. ‘Lord Oromë awaits.’

The king vaulted into the saddle as if he had ridden an elk every day of his existence. ‘Lead on then, Commanders.’

The three set off around the house, Glorfindel and Ecthelion following. On the veranda, the household staff waited to bid the king farewell as the party headed onto the main trail.

Flanking the path, a line of lanterns lit the way, each held by a Silvan who bowed and knelt on sight of their king, the lanterns bobbing down and up as they made their obeisance.

‘Our friends wished to honour you, my lord king,’ Canadion said. ‘Because they have missed you.’

‘Then I am honoured indeed,’ Oropher said, raising his voice across the hushed dusk. ‘My Silvans, I go simply so that I may return. Now rise.’

Lord Oromë and his company met them where the main path joined the trail to the hinterlands, his lady Baralinith at his side and Lady Erymes with them. 

‘I thought you would never get here,’ Erymes said, urging her horse forward towards her husband.

‘We had to proceed at Glorfindel’s pace,’ Oropher said. ‘For some reason he deemed it necessary to see me off.’

‘Just making sure you didn’t get lost, old friend.’

‘With Silvans at my side and a good steed under me? It is hardly likely. Well, then. Glorfindel, Ecthelion, once more our thanks.’

‘Be well, Oropher.’

Glorfindel slung his arm around Ecthelion’s shoulders and together they watched their friend ride off. Within moments he was gone, and the Silvans who had lined the path making their way along it back to the camp, murmuring words of greeting and goodnight as they passed.

Finally, they were the only ones left, and turned towards home where Lalbes was waiting on the veranda steps with a lantern of her own.

‘Now, my lords, Bruiven has looked in on the kids and their dam, and all are nicely bedded down for the night; I suggest you do the same, there is some hot spiced wine waiting for you.’ 

‘As ever, Mistress Lalbes, we are grateful.’ Ecthelion smiled and inclined his head.

‘Yes, well. Goodnight, now.’

They found the mulled wine set up in the small parlour for them, and Glorfindel sighed as he smiled at the silence of the villa.

‘House is very quiet, Thel.’

‘Indeed. Too quiet? Do you wish to put the music box on?’

‘Perhaps not tonight; shall we take the wine to bed with us? Then I can put my head on your chest and fall asleep listening to your heartbeat. Our own bed instead of the hayloft.’

‘Yes. The house is ours again.’

‘I know…!’ Glorfindel grinned and pressed a wine-wet kiss to Ecthelion’s cheek. ‘Let’s reclaim it, a room at a time…’

‘Starting with the sofa, or the window seat?’

Fin laughed, sliding his hands inside Ecthelion’s robes.

‘You pick first,’ he said.


	31. Portrait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion has a visit from Parvon...

Ecthelion came out of reverie with a smile deep in his fëa and a heavy weight on his chest; Glorfindel had indeed fallen asleep listening to his heartbeat, but not before they had reclaimed the small parlour, the formal parlour, the dining room, the bathing pool and their own bed; the latter two had not been strictly necessary, but Glorfindel had been quite provocatively insistent…

The arm across his body tightened fractionally, released, and the distribution of weight on Thel’s body changed as Glorfindel woke and lifted his head to blink away the nictitating membranes and smile sleepy blue eyes at his husband.

‘Morning, Thel, love. That was quite a night, really.’

‘Indeed. And we still have the upstairs to reclaim, and the room where the Silvans’ luggage awaits them…’

‘Better wait until we do that room; they’re coming back today, after all…’

*

The first Silvans they saw were Merlinith and Araspen, arriving at more or less their usual time.

‘Not to convince you to try crochet again,’ Araspen said, ‘but to see how you are bearing up without your friend; when we spoke yesterday, he was quite concerned that you would miss him…’

Glorfindel glanced at Thel with a laugh in his eyes. ‘It’s fair to say we’re coping, I think. It’s good to see you, though.’

‘Thank you. How are the kids?’

‘Doing well; would you like to come and see for yourselves? Thel, are you coming too?’

‘Why not?’

Once the kids had been duly admired – Merlinith favoured Prince Charming, but Araspen thought Dancing Queen had prettier eyes – and refreshments served, the ever-practical Merlinith turned the chat away from goats and the advantages of living by the sea and towards more mundane matters.

‘We wondered if you had a handcart we might borrow,’ she said. ‘Our cases have wheels, but I do not think they were really intended for such terrain as this.’

‘A handcart? Have we got one, Thel?’ Glorfindel asked. ‘Or was it a wheelbarrow you used to trundle me home from the taverns in?’ 

‘That was long, long ago, beloved light,’ Ecthelion replied. ‘And more often than not, we would sleep on the beach until your legs grew stable enough to bear you home… I suppose Bruiven will know if we have one, and if we do, you are most welcome to use it… but you will not bear your goods all the way to the town unaided, surely?’

‘We are Silvan ellith, my lord, not Noldor, and quite capable. But thank you. And if we may have it now, we can be off before our friends arrive and want to use it for themselves…’

A handcart found, Lalbes insisting the ladies leave Bruiven to do the pushing (‘And it is not that you are incapable, Mistress Merlinith, but that you are honour-sister to a prince and if you want to be respected in town, you need to remember they are both terrible gossips and dreadful snobs…’) and the Silvan ellith departed in a little flurry of thanks and waved farewells.

Ecthelion smiled at Glorfindel.

‘What would you like to do this morning?’ he said. ‘There is the beach, of course… and always the goats… or have you another preference? Bearing in mind we may be called upon at any time, of course…?’

‘I suppose we need to stay near home… what about some music, do you think? I was thinking, the box thing, we can take it into your art room, that way you can work on your painting, if you want…’

‘That will be delightful; I hope you can remember how to work the machines…?’

‘I think so. If not, I think I can remember enough of that one about Prince Charming to sing it to you? Or the one where that fellow sings about all the things he isn’t ever going to do…?’

*

But the machine was no more difficult to work than the last time Fin had used it. They worked their way through their favourites, the bright tempo providing an upbeat background as Thel began to paint and Glorfindel amused himself by expressing himself to the music, moving his body into interesting shapes and haphazard steps that would surely have entertained Ecthelion, had he not already fallen into the heart of his painting. Half way through the list of things Rick Astley was never going do, Lalbes tapped at the door of the studio and Glorfindel had to stop dancing and switch the music off.

‘If you please, my lords, there are more Silvans…’

‘I’ll go,’ Glorfindel said, giving Thel a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘You stay here with your paintings.’

‘If you are sure, my light.’ 

Ecthelion smiled; yes, he wanted very much to get back to working on the picture of Dancing Queen in Glorfindel’s hands, and it was typical of Fin that whatever else was going on, he recognised Ecthelion’s need to paint.

‘Of course. Mind you, I’m still waiting for you to finish that big one over there… how long is it now, thirty, forty years…?’

Fin grinned and swaggered off, leaving Ecthelion laughing, giggling, really. It was an old joke between them; the painting in question was rather a monumental work, longer than Thel was tall so that he had had to work on steps for some of it, and it was in oils, not his usual medium. It was, of course, complete, saying everything Thel wanted it to say with succinct elegance, but since it was a conceptual work, seeming at first glance to be a random selection of colours and textures, Glorfindel had no idea what it was about. Even when Ecthelion had told him, ‘It’s you, my beloved light; it is you,’ Glorfindel had frowned and shaken his head.

‘What, am I hiding behind that spike-thing, then? Or did you paint me having a really bad day?’

No amount of explaining had made it clearer, though, and so Ecthelion had not yet returned to oil paints, instead expressing himself in watercolour or pencil or music. Fin did, at least, seem to feel the love in the music.

Ecthelion returned to the Dancing Queen picture, adding depth and highlights, little details that gave the work an extra dimension, losing himself in the play of paint until a knock at the door interrupted.

‘Ecthelion? I hope I’m not disturbing you…?’

Turning, Thel saw Parvon waiting politely just outside the threshold.

‘Not at all, Parvon; it was time I paused for a moment. How can I help you? Is Triwathon with you, too?’

Parvon advanced, a smile that was rather more uncertain than he intended on his face. 

‘In fact, Triwathon said he would like a chat with Glorfindel and so I have taken the opportunity to bring you our appreciation… I am come, really, to say all our belongings have been moved and your home is now free of Silvan intrusion; apart from my own person, that is…’

‘You are not an intrusion, Parvon, and it has been a pleasure to help Glorfindel’s old friends.’

‘I rather think, my lord, that some of the actions taken by yourself and your husband have been something more than simple helping; Glorfindel’s stories on the Night of the Names; your kindness – your many kindnesses in taking care of our own King Oropher…’ Parvon bowed deeply. ‘There is no end to how grateful we are…’

‘Ah…’ Ecthelion waved his hand. ‘Really, Oropher is our friend; what else would we do but offer hospitality to him? Both Glorfindel and I hope he finds his way; I am sure, with such a person as Erymes at his side, he will soon be his former self again.’

‘We will gladly let you know how he goes on. And if ever there is any service we can perform for you or your husband, we will be honoured to serve.’

‘We are grateful. I understand there will be Silvans living in the town, that will be nice.’

‘Yes, indeed. It may be that Prince Legolas will look to settle somewhere between the town and Lord Oromë’s forests; many of those who sailed with us would like to join him, and found a new settlement. The Elvenking has given his approval, and as soon as some arrangement over settling the land can be made, they will proceed.’

‘You do not include yourself in this scheme? What of your husband?’

‘We have not quite decided yet. Since Arveldir and Erestor have retired, and Masters Merenor and Hanben are staying with kin in the town, there are hardly any of the former King’s Advisors available; there is work for Triwathon and I either with the Elvenking, or possibly at King Oropher’s court; we are still considering our options.’ 

Turning the subject, he gestured around the studio, his eyes busy. High windows let in softly filtered light and the walls were full of artwork. 

‘These are extraordinary,’ he said in almost reverential tones. ‘We had heard it said that Lord Ecthelion paints, but… forgive me. Nobody said how well…’

‘You flatter me,’ Ecthelion said. ‘In fact, very few persons have ever expressed an interest in my finished works; as you can see, my choice of subject is quite specific.’

He gestured around the room which was bedecked with paintings of Fin, soft watercolours capturing his likeness in gentle layers of wash, bold oils with curves and sweeping lines folding around to indicate the power of his muscles, everywhere Glorfindel laughing, or smiling, or looking self-conscious, dressed in finery in Gondolin, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, or in leggings and tunic seated looking across a landscape, a thoughtful expression on his face. Glorfindel on the beach, beside a stream, lounging in his hammock, or face to face with Evil-Eyed El, both of them with the same look in their eye…

Parvon laughed and gestured towards a painting of a dolphin breaking up from the waves. It had a bright blue eye and the water on either side of its face had a bold, golden swirl to its flow.

‘Yes, even when you do not paint Glorfindel, you paint Glorfindel… I do not know, you are in Valinor, with the sea and the sky, the stars and the land, even your villa would make a beautiful subject, and you paint your husband…’

‘Of course; everything I do here is for him, everything I see I do so through him.’

Parvon halted in front of the huge oil painting, taking it in. At first it seemed a simple abstract; a pale green border, areas of yellow and curving hints of gleaming gold around faint swathes of peach and pink which meandered up the centre of the composition, soft blues made up the background colours while the main drama lay in two stronger elements; a vertical column, tapering at the top, in dark maroon, an orange so deep as almost to be black with red highlights which ran from the bottom right of the painting to two thirds its height, ending in a sharp point, and across the canvas a wide horizontal band that bent around the spike, interrupting it, striking in its intensity as it crossed the other colours as if they were not there, the most perfect layers of bright, deep, luminous blue one could ever imagine, narrow stripes and broader lines painted on in varying degrees of thickness, all adding up to the most intense blue impasto imaginable and entirely crossing the canvas.

‘And this…’ Parvon sighed. ‘The longer I look, the more I see; the shadows in the yellow, they look like the ghosts of flowers… and is that a sword, or a spear, or… or a whip fully extended? Or just an expression of the pain of the fëa?’

‘It matters not; it is all, or none, or any in combination.’

‘It is just too, too blue!’ Parvon truly seemed impressed, not taking his eyes form the canvas even when Ecthelion joined him before the picture. ‘I wish… I wish Triwathon could see this…’

‘He is most welcome; I seldom have chance to display my work to others. But might one ask why, particularly?’

‘Oh.’ An almost shy laugh. ‘It would demonstrate to him that… forgive me, this sounds wrong, offensive, almost… that you truly love your husband…’

‘Indeed… I will hold you excused from wilfully wishing to insult my marriage, nor will I remind you that it is between Glorfindel and me and nothing to do with Triwathon, for I suppose I can see that he may have an interest in knowing his former friend is cared for adequately…’

‘It is only that Silvans talk, my lord. Gossip, even… and it has been remarked – not by Triwathon, nor me – that the terms of affection you use to your husband are very effusive… and are perhaps either ironic, or overstated to give the impression of more fondness than there really is…’

‘I do not know what to say!’ Ecthelion blinked slowly as he marshalled his thoughts against these outrageous suggestions. ‘To begin, you – your company – travels all the way here from the chaos of the world of Men, you land in your forever-home, Valinor the Beautiful, you are surrounded by the love of the Valar – yes, even with the sea and the sky, the stars and the land as you reminded me, and all you Silvans can do is gossip about Glorfindel? Now, I know he is a figure of importance among you, but, really, Parvon…?’

‘Forgive me. Having begun, I did not know how not to say it, how not to try to explain… but none who saw this painting could doubt that Glorfindel is honoured for his courage, loved and understood… that the one who painted it truly knows him…’

‘In turn, I might say the same of the starlight gemstone chosen to hold all your Silvan memories of him, that one who knew his fëa best was the one who selected it…’

‘Ah. Yes. I gather you think Triwathon…? And it is a fair assumption, but, in fact… I did. Triwathon wanted the biggest, brightest, clearest diamond but it was wrong, and when I showed him the stone with the flaw, he saw his choice had been wrong, reflecting only the Glorfindel everyone wanted to see, while the other showed your husband as he was.’

‘I see. As for how I address my husband… but how sad that nobody believes I mean it when I say Glorfindel is my light, my joy…! Simply, he is; perhaps successive generations have grown shy of stating their affections… it is, I am afraid, your loss. We were much more forthright, and vocal, in Gondolin.’

‘Perhaps you are right; we tend to keep such personal matters private, these days. Forgive me; I really meant nothing by it other than… if I may… the history between our husbands… I think Triwathon will be happier once he is certain that Glorfindel is, himself, happy.’ Parvon sighed. ‘This painting – the mood behind it – it is how I feel.’

‘Sweet Eru, do not tell me you are in love with Glorfindel, too!’ Ecthelion said it in humour, but a part of him was horrified lest it was true. ‘Triwathon retaining feelings for him I could understand and perhaps excuse, but…’

‘No, oh, no, I do not mean…! I go from bad to worse, everything I say is wrong…! I meant – it is how I feel about Triwathon. So much love but much of it ambiguous; no doubting that it is there, but… I had better shut up, I think. Only… I waited too, you know. For Triwathon.’ He sighed and his head dropped. ‘There are times when I feel I am still waiting.’

Ecthelion laid a fleeting hand on his shoulder. ‘If you are fëa-mates, then there is no-one who could sunder you. But… it does not always stop people trying. When we were young in Gondolin, our betrothal even seemed to provide an excuse for ellith to offer themselves as vessels so that Glorfindel might have an heir… Come. It is probably too early for wine, but I am sure I can bespeak some of Glorfindel’s beer; we can drink to our husbands and then, once we are refreshed, we can go and find them.’


	32. Glorfindel, Laughing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Triwathon wants to talk to Glorfindel, and Ecthelion chats with Parvon over beer...

‘Yes, yes, off you go, thank you for coming, don’t worry about the handcart, we’ll get it from Baudh later.’ Glorfindel made shooing motions with his hands behind the last troop of Silvans’ backs as the pushed the overladen handcart down the road towards the town. ‘Thank you… goodbye.’

He had been most of the morning arranging with the various individuals who had come to sort through their belongings; those who wanted to take things to store in town had argued they should have first use of the cart, as town was nearer, but those wanting to take their belongings with them argued that their luggage had already been sorted out and it was a better use of time if they proceed while the others finished going through their cases. Of course, this didn’t allow for those who wanted to take some of their things with them, but not all…

‘How about if none of you get the cart?’ Glorfindel had said. ‘Would that help?’

Hurt glances and surprised expressions; it had taken until Parvon and Triwathon arrived and issued stern orders before anyone went anywhere with anything, Fin dodging around at the back of the group, visible but too far away to be caught by conversation. 

Now, finally, the Silvans were sorted and on their way and Fin stepped back, preparing to retreat to his goat-shed.

But before he could, Triwathon had spotted him. The Silvan laid his hand on Parvon’s arm and spoke softly to his spouse, waiting for a nod before smiling and heading over.

‘Glorfindel! It seems an age since we really spoke! How are you?’

‘Well, thanks. Busy; we have new animals and they’ve kept my hands full. And your old king, of course, we had him to look after, too.’

‘Yes; I saw him pass on his way to the retreat last evening. He looked well, considering.’

‘Considering…?’

‘I was at the gates – Parvon and I, we both were – and saw him when he emerged. It was distressing; he was still in the bloodied armour of his last battle… I did not expect that, somehow…’

‘It’s what happens when you leave; you get the clothes your fëa thinks you should be wearing, or what you remember best. Thel told me, barefoot and unbound, which made walking a bit of a nuisance… well. Glad you could see Oropher looked better, at least.’

‘I am grateful. We, that is. We all are grateful, Glorfindel.’

Fin had nodded and made to leave.

‘Well, nice to see you, let us know how Oropher gets on, won’t you?’

‘Glorfindel…!’ There was surprised disappointment in Triwathon’s voice. ‘I had hoped we might talk, you and I…’

‘Really? What about Parvon, won’t he mind?’

‘Why should he?’ Triwathon smiled, shrugging a shoulder. ‘It’s just talking. Anyway, he’s going to tell Ecthelion how we’ve got on.’

And, of course, why shouldn’t they talk? It wasn’t as if Triwathon was unmarried, or as if Fin was interested. But something in his former lover’s attitude made him uneasy, and had it not been for the fact that Parvon was nearby, and Thel in his studio, he might well have found something to be busy with. As it was, perhaps he and Triwathon were overdue a clearing of the air…

‘All right. Come on, let’s go to the beach, it’s a nice view.’

Glorfindel had led the way, going through the house and talking at some volume all the time to make its inhabitants aware that he and Triwathon were on their way to the dunes beneath the villa; he wasn’t sure Thel would hear, wrapped up in his work as he could be, or talking perhaps with Parvon, but Lalbes had never quite lost her suspicion of Triwathon and would certainly be on the lookout. In fact…

‘Lalbes!’ he called at the kitchen door. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a couple of bottles of…’ he paused. Better not ask for beer, the fruit brews were all gone and only honey beer remaining… the associations might be inappropriate… ‘Any of that fruit cordial we can take to the beach? Just going for a chat with Triwathon while Parvon does whatever it is he’s doing with Thel…’

‘Lord Glorfindel, yes, I do. Give me a moment… or shall Bruiven bring it presently?’

That was actually a very good idea; it would mean the expectation of company would keep things light. But even as Glorfindel was about to agree, Triwathon interrupted.

‘I could not possibly put your husband to so much trouble, Mistress Lalbes. I am more than able to carry a bottle or two, if you think Lord Glorfindel cannot.’

With a sniff Lalbes turned away and found a jug and two beakers which she almost thrust at Triwathon.

‘Be careful you don’t break anything,’ she said. ‘We’ve had quite enough damaged things here, thank you!’

‘Oh? Have some of my Silvan friends been clumsy?’ Triwathon asked, addressing his question to Glorfindel, for Lalbes had already returned to the kitchen.

‘I have no idea,’ Fin said. ‘Come on. I need to check on the goats soon; I don’t have long, you know.’

*

Bruiven brought beer to the table in the garden for Ecthelion and Parvon. The change of location had taken them away from the awkwardness of Parvon’s poorly-hidden insecurity, and the clean, salted air was refreshing. 

‘It is indeed wonderful to be so near the sea.’ Parvon lifted his glass in salute and sipped. ‘Ah… honey beer?’

‘What else did you expect Glorfindel to drink?’ Ecthelion gestured easily. ‘Yes, we are fortunate in this spot, although there are many habitable areas of coast, particularly down towards Lord Oromë’s forests. One of the enticements Erestor and Arveldir always offer when they invite us to their estate is that, as well as being bordered by woodland, they are but an hour’s stroll from the coast. If any of you wished to settle near the sea, it would be a lovely area and convenient for all you might need. Glorfindel, of course, wished to be close to where the ships put in so we settled here.’

‘It is a personal question, I know, but…’ Parvon broke off and sighed.

‘So personal, in fact, that you cannot find a way to phrase it?’ Ecthelion found a wistful smile forming on his face. ‘You will have noted already that I am very good at choosing not to take offence; please, do go on, or I will be imagining all manner of impertinent queries…’

‘Rather than personal, I hope it is not painful to ask it, but… all that passed… you have forgiven?’

‘As I mentioned when first you and I met, elven lives are too long for us to harbour resentment easily. I keep reminding my husband that when he left the Halls, we were but betrothed and I released him before his re-embodiment; there is nothing to forgive. But he imagines there is and so I do forgive him, freely and willingly and as often as he needs. As for any lingering jealousy, well, why would I allow myself to spoil things by such silliness? We are now married, we are fëa-mates. As are you and Triwathon, of course.’

‘Of course. But… I do not know, these days there are so many ways for people to be being married and yet free with their affections… I have never wavered, but I worry, at times about my husband. He has never given me cause, but… I care for him so very much, you see.’

‘Sometimes, when we are so utterly lost in another person’s fëa, we give too much of our own, opening ourselves to more pain and worry than ought to be our lot. If I may presume I think Oromë’s enclave would suit you both; there is bound to be a King’s Office of one sort or another which would welcome your expertise. Surrounded by familiar patterns of your old way of life, you and Triwathon would equally return to the pace of your former days together. And one thing is certain, Glorfindel and I have no wish to penetrate the secret enclaves of the forest; we would not intrude on your peace.’

‘You are most generous. Yet it is a pity; I would have liked for us to be friends.’

‘We are friends, of course,’ Ecthelion said. ‘But perhaps it may be better to be distantly friendly for a time. Just until you find your feet a little.’

He smiled and was relieved that Parvon managed to smile back. Encouraged, he ventured to introduce a new thought, one he believed might be at the heart of matters. 

‘We were rather at sea at first, so to speak, but then, having come from the Halls, the process of adaptation was different for us. Fin and I had to come into the present, as it were, while you are effectively stepping into the past. One thing we did not expect was that, even after all the time that had passed, Glorfindel was still feted and honoured as the Balrog-Slayer, still expected to be a monumental hero… I have to say, to his credit, he did not enjoy it much. For all he appears to play up to his personal myth, he is rather modest at heart. But it was exactly as you said when you spoke of choosing a gemstone to represent him; people expect him to be a huge, sparkly diamond and instead he is, as we all are, a little flawed, which makes him perfect in my eyes. But could it be, perhaps, that your Triwathon has got caught up in memories of the heroic Balrog-Slayer and has forgotten that such a person does not really exist?’

This time Parvon’s smile was easier, relieved, perhaps.

‘Yes, that sounds possible! It has been… I cannot say that Triwathon and I ever talked of Glorfindel as your Glorfindel seems to have talked about him. Do you know, we had no thoughts of sailing West? Not ever; we were content with what we had and where we were… so why would we talk about those who had left, those we did not think we would ever meet again? But then we found Thranduil and… he is our king. Of course we followed him. So it was only on the voyage over, I think, the realisation dawned, first on me, and then on my husband, that Glorfindel would be here.’ Parvon shrugged. ‘Perhaps even the fact that he was not talked over between us means that Triwathon’s recollections of him have become a little… skewed, perhaps?’

Ecthelion nodded. ‘In which case, I am sure there will be enough people around you both to remind him that Glorfindel is, after all, only an ellon.’

‘I doubt that! To those of us born in later ages, the elves of the First Age are all heroes!’ Parvon sipped at his beer. ‘Not only Glorfindel, but you, also, my lord.’

Ecthelion laughed and tried to lift the mood.

‘Ah, it is true, it does sometimes take heroic efforts to run a peaceful household! Take Lalbes, for example; the energy required to ensure she does not combust when Fin is more than usually teasing…’ He nodded to where the housekeeper had exited the villa and was heading over in some haste; her walk was one he knew of old and it usually boded ill... ‘See her now, the outrage in her step, but what could possibly be wrong today?’

He returned to his drink until she was in comfortable hailing distance before addressing her.

‘Mistress Lalbes, is all well?’

‘I think so, my lord, but in case your friend was looking for his husband, he is on the beach below the dunes. With your husband, my lord, and some fruit cordial.’

‘How very restrained of Lord Glorfindel! Have they been waiting for us long, do you know?’

‘I think perhaps enough time has passed for them to be in need of new topics of conversation, my lord, if I may venture an opinion…’

‘Thank you, Lalbes. In that case, perhaps we should join them, Parvon, what do you think?’

‘I think that’s a very good idea.’

*

‘See, I told you it was a nice view,’ Glorfindel said, grinning. ‘It’s even better at night, the stars are like silver fires in the sky and the sea is darker than Ecthelion’s hair, beautiful, it is.’

The tide was near its height, breaking on the beach just a short few strides away from the softer, drier dune sand. The wide horizon was straight and true, a level line separating ocean blue from sky, softly scudding horizon clouds bridging the two. 

Above and behind where Fin and Triwathon stood, the villa on its ridge looked out and down over them, a reassuring presence at Glorfindel’s back. He found a comfortable spot and lowered himself to sit with the warm sand of the dunes supporting his back, and accepted a glass of blackcurrant cordial from Triwathon.

‘I love this place,’ he said, deciding to take charge of the conversation. ‘Love being here, with the ocean to greet me every day. And it’s all thanks to Thel, you know. We’d been invited to live in Turgon’s enclave, with other friends of old, but we came to live here, by the sea, so I could watch for ships. Thel’s idea, though when he said ‘ships’ he knew really it was just one ship, your ship. Thel knows me better than I know myself, what I need, even if it’s not what I seem to want.’

‘You watched for my ship?’ Triwathon honed in on just a part of Glorfindel’s speech. ‘You missed me so much?’

‘Well, yes; I wanted to be sure you were all right, after everything. You and Parvon. I’m glad you two finally…’

Triwathon broke in on Glorfindel’s words, his voice eager.

‘I have missed you too, my friend, my dear iphant! We… we have not spoken of the moments of our reunion, Laurefindil,’ he said, shifting so that he was half-facing Fin. ‘Nor of when I saw Maedon anew. Yet I know it must have engendered thought, at least...’

‘None of my business, really,’ Glorfindel said, not quite comfortable with the intensity of Triwathon’s gaze; at one time he would have been lost in those lovely eyes, now he just wanted to move away... ‘Maedon, that is. And, yes, was very glad to see you myself... I apologised to Parvon, though, he wasn’t upset, was he?’

‘No, but... I thought you might be. I thought you might have felt rejected. But, you see... the reason was... I... well, to begin with Maedon...’

‘There’s no need,’ Fin said swiftly, remembering the intimacy with which Triwathon had stroked Maedon’s hair, the swift hurt on Parvon’s face.

‘It was to see if such a gesture would awaken anything in me. It did not. But I needed to know, to compare that reunion with seeing you again and... well, the reason I pushed away, my dear friend, was that if you had – as I thought it might be – had been leaning in to kiss me in greeting, I did not think I would be able to stop myself from kissing you back...’

Ah. Glorfindel made to rise, but Triwathon reached out eager hands to Glorfindel’s arms, holding him in place.

‘I still love you, Glorfindel. I know, I am married, but… I love you.’

And Glorfindel laughed.

*

Ecthelion led Parvon through the house to the veranda which he thought would give the easiest view of their husbands, enabling them to hail them without intruding. Perhaps, had the tide been lower, Glorfindel and Triwathon would have been further away from the villa, out of earshot but in clear sight. Ecthelion had no wish to eavesdrop, let alone lead Parvon into accidental overhearing, too…

As it was, Ecthelion heard them before he saw them, Triwathon’s eager tones, far too eager for the words that followed to be purely spoken from innocent friendship.

_‘I have missed you too, my friend, my dear iphant...’_

All Ecthelion’s senses heightened; his vision prickled with pinpoint clarity, his hearing so suddenly acute he could hear Glorfindel’s hissed intake of breath, the gasp from Parvon somewhere beside him. He turned towards Triwathon’s husband, shaking his head in mute sympathy and confusion. Distantly, he knew the conversation was continuing and his mouth worked silently as he tried to summon his voice to call out his presence, to halt this terrifying conversation. But all his words caught in his throat, he whose voice was famed throughout Gondolin, who had commanded armies with a shout…

Ecthelion stood mute, numb, his hands clenched on the rail of the veranda. He could see his knuckles whitening as the words below continued, heard but not followed, the tune only, not the lyrics running through his awareness with only an occasional, painful snatch of clarity.

 _‘…And, yes, was very glad to see you myself...’_ Glorfindel’s voice said. _‘I apologised to Parvon, though, he wasn’t upset, was he?'_

Ecthelion tried to gather himself; he could vault over the railing, laugh and call out, interrupt before this conversation grew dangerous…

_‘…if you had – as I thought it might be – had been leaning in to kiss me in greeting, I did not think I would be able to help myself from kissing you back...’_

… but his hands refused to release the rail and his head began to spin as Triwathon’s words sank in.

_‘I still love you, Glorfindel. I know, I am married, but… I love you.’_

The declaration of love took all the air from Ecthelion’s lungs. His heart clenched in anguish and he grew dizzy and faint with despair.

And sick. He felt sick and ill and his ears were singing and Glorfindel…

Glorfindel _laughed…_

Ecthelion’s world shattered into a thousand fragments, each shard piercing his fëa with exquisite, desperate agony. The singing in his ears crescendoed to a raging roar, light exploded in his eyes in blossoming motes of bright pain and nothing, nothing mattered any more as a sweeping, icy numbness rose up in him like a tide to wash him away…


	33. Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Triwathon explains his feelings further...

_‘I still love you, Glorfindel.’_

Glorfindel laughed.

‘Well, of course you do, penneth!’ he said lightly, resisting the panic, the impulse to flee; this needed to be dealt with now, kindly if he could, but certainly with firmness. Gently he removed Triwathon’s hands, giving them a little pat as he let go, flexing his muscles with a grin. ‘I’m Glorfindel of Gondolin, the famed Balrog-Slayer; everybody loves me!’

Triwathon smiled and shook his head.

‘Yes, that, but, I mean... I still have feelings for you. After all this time, seeing you again...’

‘But you and Parvon always look happy together, isn’t he all you need...?’ 

‘Of course we are happy! And I am not saying I do not love him. He is... he has been... do not think we have not been content, for he is wonderful, it is only that I still...’

‘I don’t understand; he’s your fëa-mate, your vowed one, your husband, so you can’t have strong feelings for anyone else, not while your fëa-mate’s alive…’

‘You lived in simpler times… and they say little has changed in Valinor since the Sundering. But Parvon and I have lived through such change…! Love is not so simple these days…’

‘Yes it is,’ Glorfindel protested. ‘That’s why I know it isn’t me you love, it’s the memory of me, it must be. The memory of you being you when I was the me I was, of what we were then; it might have been real love at the time, but it’s not real now. Feelings change over time. They soften, and alter, and become different. I still have feelings for you...’

‘You see?’

‘...No, no, wait a moment. The thing with feelings,’ Glorfindel said softly, turning to look forwards to the restless dance of the waves. ‘If you feel, you feel. It takes a lot to stop caring about someone. I don’t love you, anyway, certainly not in the same way I did. And not at all as I love Ecthelion. But then, it never was…’ Glorfindel nodded his head to himself. ‘Oh, not to take away your kindness, the love we shared when we both needed someone... but I was always coming home to my Thel. It was always him. You knew it then and I don’t understand what’s changed so you don’t know it now.’

‘I suppose I thought you would not have changed...’

‘I’m in a new body, everything has changed for me, in one sense. I’m as Thel knew me when we were young and brave in Gondolin. And I have you to thank for that, for the healing you brought my fëa.’

‘I think… I don’t understand why you care for him so. The way he talks to you, the things he says… all that flowery stuff; it’s so artificial…’

‘Artificial? My Thel?’ Glorfindel got to his feet, Triwathon scrambling up to face him.

‘Yes! When he calls you his golden flower, his light, he doesn’t sound sincere, it’s just words; it’s obvious it’s just words; where is the real affection?’

‘In the Halls, you can’t really touch, all you can do is talk. It’s how we kept ourselves going. Besides, it’s how it was in Gondolin, how we’ve always been, really. Thel does it more than me, yes, but only because he’s better at words than I am! And I love the things he says, the look in his eye when he says it…’

‘Because you are in his thrall, you do not realise how he is using you, keeping you by his side out of your misplaced guilt! Oh, Laurefindil, how did you come to this?’ Triwathon reached out and grabbed Glorfindel’s shoulders. ‘I know you still cared for me when you died; coming all that way to save me, you gave your life for me, Glorfindel; you looked at me and you smiled and then you died in my arms, for me…’

‘For you?’ Glorfindel shook his head. ‘No, penneth; not for you. Not for a moment was it for you; didn’t you know? Lord Námo offered me the choice, to stay and live, or to go with him there and then. Of course I went with him; much faster than riding to the Havens and then all that time on a ship... did you know, Thel had stayed in the Halls, waiting for me? All that time with only Námo and Oropher for company. And we were able to start afresh together, in new bodies. And we were married by Námo and…’

‘You BASTARD Glorfindel!’ Triwathon erupted, shoved Glorfindel so hard that the Balrog-Slayer went sprawling onto the sand. ‘How DARE you? Do you realise what you did? I loved you, I mourned you, I… I wept over your body, you ungrateful… and… everyone saw me weep for you, and…’

Triwathon covered his face with his hands, sobbing, giving Glorfindel chance to get to his feet. The Silvan’s misery twisted in his guts, guilt and sympathy twining together; Triwathon needed comfort, an arm around his shoulders, but that was the last thing Glorfindel wanted, his former lover turning to him for solace.

‘Come on now,’ he said softly, approaching but trying to keep out of reach. ‘It worked out, didn’t it? See? I got myself a new body, you let go of me, at last, and got Parvon. Your fëa-mate, remember him? The one who’s been at your side all this time, loving you, looking after you. Like my Thel does for me. This is all just… I’m not surprised you’re confused. Valinor’s a lot to take in, penneth.’

‘Do not call me that!’ Triwathon emerged from behind his hands for long enough to spit out the words. ‘I hate you calling me that, I never liked it!’

‘Oh, you did once, I remember,’ Glorfindel said. ‘You used to give this little wriggle of your shoulders, and your smile… Look, this is bad enough without remembering things wrongly; I’m sorry you’re upset, but you’ve got to see…’

‘I hate you! I hate you!’

‘No, you don’t. Not really. You just hate feeling confused.’

Triwathon buried himself in his hands again, really sobbing, taking a few staggering steps towards Fin behind his hair, but Glorfindel heard a shout from the house above and looked up towards the villa where Parvon was attempting to help Ecthelion who had collapsed over the rail of the veranda.

‘Sweet, Eru! Thel!’ he exclaimed, and pelted up the dunes, unaware that behind him, Triwathon had leaned in too far to where he expected Glorfindel would be and had fallen in a little heap on the sand. ‘Parvon, what happened? Is he all right?’

‘He fainted, that’s all…’

‘All…!’ Glorfindel took Thel into his arms, cradled him, torn between crushing him close to his body and allowing him room to breathe. ‘Thel doesn’t faint, he says it’s not his style! He’s so cold! How can he be cold? Oh, Thel, love, Thel…!’

‘He heard Triwathon speak of… of having feelings for you. Your reply. But I do not think he heard all of it, not where you said you had not died for Triwathon, but for your husband. And he certainly did not see my husband push you away.’ He gusted out a sigh, his voice clipped and shaking. ‘I did, though. Had I not...’

‘Well, sorry, and all that, never expected Triwathon to get silly about things…’ Glorfindel replied almost by rote, chafing Ecthelion’s wrists, cuddling him in. ‘Come on, Thel, love, weren’t you saying the other day, fainting is too dramatic? Wake up, love… Parvon, can you give Lalbes a shout, or Bruiven for me…?’

But Parvon had gone.

Glorfindel scowled down the panic that clawed at his chest, his heart. Seeing Thel like this reminded him of Gondolin, of his helplessness, watching Thel die… to see him collapse, in bright day, to feel that helpless again, even here…

He gave himself a shake; it was not Gondolin, Thel wasn’t dead; he was breathing, the pulse beating regularly in his throat beneath the fine, translucent skin, so that was a good sign. He was cold, though, so cold, and with his eyes closed looked strange and unfamiliar, lost, somehow. 

Fin drew in a deep breath that he knew was going to end in a sob when he heard a voice behind him.

‘Now, Lord Glorfindel, what are you doing with your husband out on the veranda like that? Come on, bring him inside.’

‘Oh, Lalbes, he…’

The housekeeper patted his shoulder.

‘Come along. Or shall I carry him indoors myself while you have a little cry about it?’

Fin shook his head and got up, Ecthelion carefully cradled in his arms, bearing him into the house. A murmur from Thel, a flutter of the pale eyelids as Fin sat down on the nearest seat, Ecthelion’s arms stirring, automatically going around his husband, snuggling in.

‘…cold…’ he said.

‘Thel, oh, love, sorry, here, cuddle in a bit more, and…’ 

‘Here, my lords.’ Lalbes had snatched a cloak from the hall cupboard and draped it over them both. ‘I’ll have a fire made in your private sitting room and bring hot drinks presently.’

‘Lalbes, thank you, I… Thel?’

Ecthelion’s eyes opened and he stared at Glorfindel, hurt in his eyes as he tried to push away as best he could.

‘You laughed!’ he said, his tone hurt and accusatory. ‘Triwathon said he loved you still and you laughed!’

‘Only because it was such a silly thing for him to say. Unexpected. Thought he might have been joking, maybe. I don’t think he meant it, well, he might have meant it but he didn’t know what it meant, if you follow…’

Ecthelion grabbed at Glorfindel, hiding his face in his husband’s golden tresses; he was starting to shake now in the aftermath of his collapse. Glorfindel shifted his grip so that Thel was resting more easily against him.

‘Just so you know, Thel, I love you, only you, don’t want Triwathon’s affections, sweet Eru! Don’t think I even want his friendship now, he’s changed so much…’

‘Hold… hold me close,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Don’t let me go.’

‘Never, Thel, never going to do that. You’re mine and I’m yours and that’s just how it is.’

Ecthelion sighed and relaxed into Glorfindel’s arms.

‘When I came to, the sunshine song was running through my head; there is a last verse, I have never shared it for it always makes me wish to weep… it says _I’ll always love you and make you happy if you will only say the same…but if you leave me to love another you’ll regret it all some day…_ and there was Triwathon, saying he loved you…’

‘Not going to happen, not ever going to happen, not even if he was the Triwathon I’d known and loved back in the day. Because I love you, my Thel, my moonlight song, my beautiful friend.’

Ecthelion sighed and closed his eyes against the ache that loving Glorfindel always brought with the joy. Usually, it was possible to disregard the pain and just be grateful for the love, but at the moment he was still trying to process the awful scene he had witnessed and reconcile it with Glorfindel’s gentle care. 

‘You missed the best bit, you know,’ Fin said conversationally, turning away his head because relief was making his eyes leak. ‘When I told him I died so I could get back to you quicker, he gave me such a push! Almost fell into the tide; I’m sure I’m going to have a terrible bruise, may be you can kiss it better for me later…?’

‘You deserve to have more than a bruise, you terrible, terrible flirt!’ 

The pain faded; the reality of Glorfindel’s affection returned. Ecthelion fluttered his eyelashes, basking in the returning awareness that he was loved and not even Triwathon could take his Balrog-Slayer away from him. 

‘I do not know, Fin, the trouble you manage to get yourself into…’

‘Lalbes knew where I was, I made sure of that… Anyway, what about my feelings? Anyone would think you didn’t trust me…’

‘My darling diva, it is simply that I know your kind and generous heart; if anyone could ensnare you, it would be a former friend for whom you felt sorry… no, it is not that I do not trust you, but that I do not trust beautiful, scheming Silvans so much younger than myself…’

‘You don’t need to worry about that, love, not when we’re all measuring our age in millennia these days. How are you now? Want to lie down?’

‘My dear flirt, I would love to, but we have guests; I had better sit up, I think. Someone ought to make sure Parvon and Triwathon are not torturing each other...’

‘Steady.’ Glorfindel shifted Thel onto the hall chair and, ignoring his protests, fastened him up tightly in the cloak. ‘There. Come on, and I’m going to put my arm around you, you know me, any excuse for a cuddle…’

Ecthelion laughed and permitted Fin to embrace him. The strength of Glorfindel’s arms, the tenderness with which Fin supported him was in itself restorative, but then Lalbes emerged from the kitchens holding a beaker in her hands which she claimed would steady him further. 

‘So before you go anywhere, my lord Ecthelion, you will drink it, if you please! Lord Glorfindel, don’t hold him so tight, you will squash him!’

‘What is this?’ Thel asked, grimacing as he swallowed the clear liquid. ‘It is rather… unusual, and an admirable caution against fainting…’

‘It is my Bruiven’s starshine miruvor. It will do you good, my lord.’

‘From the flavour, I doubt it not.’ Ecthelion passed the beaker to Fin who sniffed, wrinkled his nose, and set it down untouched. ‘Thank you in any case, Mistress Lalbes. Glorfindel, my errant joy, if you would escort me to the veranda, we should ensure a kinslaying is not about to take place on our holdings…’


	34. 'Too, Too Blue...'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Glorfindel rushed to Ecthelion, and Parvon has something to say to Triwathon...

‘A kinslaying on your holdings, my lords?’ Lalbes exclaimed. ‘Lord Ulmo would be furious! I will send my Bruiven out to chase them further down the beach!’

‘Besides, it might upset the goats,’ Glorfindel said. Being himself really curious to see whether Triwathon was going to make things right with Parvon (for there had been something in the Silvan’s resigned air that made Fin think he might have had a lot to put up with from Triwathon over the years and this could be the final insult), he smiled at the housekeeper. ‘No, you go back to your Bruiven, I’ll sort it out.’

‘I am coming with you, my joy,’ Ecthelion said. ‘I am fine now.’

‘Really?’ Glorfindel looked his husband over. Always with skin like silken milk, Thel was even paler than usual in the wake of his faint, and Fin found it alarming, to say the least. But at least Ecthelion’s long, elegant fingers were cool, no longer as iced with chill as they had been, and he had almost stopped trembling. ‘You really want to see? You feel up to it?’

‘Of course, my over-protective delight; I had a tiny wobble, that was all. I am fine.’

‘All right. But take it slowly; if I let you wobble again, Lalbes will have my ears on a stick!’

Ecthelion nodded, glad of Glorfindel’s support, for the comfort of his kindness. Now he was starting to recover, he was furious that he had allowed himself to faint, knowing that Glorfindel loved him, had showed time and again that it was Thel he trusted, needed, and loved. But it had been Thel’s fëa that had responded, his heart, not his conscious mind, and he had been unable to hold on to his reason or quash the terrible sense of loss and pain.

Outside, the breeze that always accompanied high tide revived him even as it made him shiver and lean in closer to Fin’s side. His husband gave him a little squeeze.

‘We can go back in whenever you want, Thel. Just say the word.’

‘I will be fine. There they are,’ Ecthelion said, gesturing with a hand that still trembled. ‘Just there.’

The two Silvans were talking, not shouting, at least, although their gestures were wild and voices loud and emotional enough to be clearly audible above the rush of the tide.

‘…did not want to sail anyway, Parvon, I would have stayed, but, oh, the king needs us…’

‘Do not try to put this on me! You were the one who contacted him, “O, my king!” you began your message! And even if… it does not matter now. We are here, I doubt we can go back. Not that I would want to; the round world has grown too toxic for elves like us.’

‘Parvon, I am so very so…’

‘You are sorry? Yes, of course you are sorry. I am sorry too, sorry that I was not surprised, I should have known you still cared for him, why should you have stopped simply because he died? But you are married to me, you are MY fëa-mate, it is my soul that is entwined with yours…’

‘Yes, and yes, we are, you are, I am! And I do not want anything else, anyone instead of you, I love you, Parvon, you know I do! It is only, I only…’

‘You wondered if you could have him as well, no doubt? Or his admiration at least, the romance of feeling you were still in love, linked together by fate even though you are both married to other people? This is Valinor, Triwathon, not one of your Mills & whoever-it-is novels, or the celebrity gossip magazines; THIS is real life, where two people make up a marriage, not three or four…’

‘No, I know, I am sorry, it was just... seeing them together and knowing Glorfindel is not loved and honoured as he ought to be, it… it has burned at my heart and…’

‘Not loved? Not loved? Who are you to judge?’ Parvon shook his head, became aware that they were watched. ‘Besides, they are there, ask them, I am sure they will tell you…’

‘Yes, of course they will say that they love each other, but how true is it? How do I know he really…?’ 

‘He walked away from you, Triwathon! He died so he could be free of you, he did not even offer you a hand just now when you were weeping; he loves his husband and whether he is loved back or not is none of your business…’

‘But I need to know! How can I put this behind me when I do not know even if he is happy with his lot?’

‘Is that it? Do you really need to turn the knife in these self-inflicted wounds of yours? Will you give up this nonsense if you have proof that Fin’s been happy without you, that his husband loves him?’

‘Yes… I suppose… But that… to land here and see him in the thrall of that… that…’

‘That noble lord who died protecting his city? Who has shown us nothing but kindness and generosity? That great hero who is also a Balrog-Slayer? That honourable and currently distressed person who is leaning against his husband for support because of your idiotic and thoughtless words?’

Triwathon hung his head. Parvon took hold of him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his arm and gave him a little shake.

‘Come with me. Come. We will settle this; I will show you proof your friend is honoured and loved as he deserves and if that is not enough, well – you can walk back to Middle Earth and its modern awfulness, for all I care. Alone.’

He set off back towards the villa, practically frog-marching Triwathon along. At the top of the wooden steps he paused, making Triwathon stop too.

‘Lord Ecthelion, if you will allow it, if it is not too much to ask, may I please show my pe-channas of a fëa-mate your art room?’

Ecthelion nodded, making a half-gesture into the house.

‘Yes, a good thought… Fin, shall we…?’

‘All right. Come on, then.’

Glorfindel led the way, taking his time so that Ecthelion was not rushed. Inside the studio he stood back, still keeping an arm around his husband.

‘There’s some lovely pictures here,’ he said, waving with his free hand. ‘I like this one, myself, with Evil-Eyed El, it makes me laugh… oh, not that,’ he said quickly, for Parvon turned towards the monumental abstract oil painting. ‘It’s not finished yet, I don’t…’

‘Beloved and true light of my fëa,’ Ecthelion said, smiling as he stroked Glorfindel’s arm. ‘Hush.’

Once inside the room, Parvon had released his grip, giving Triwathon a not-exactly gentle push towards the artworks displayed. This perhaps explained why the erring Silvan ended up on his knees before the abstract where he stared up as if the canvas filled his whole world. Stared, and kept staring, like a supplicant before an altar.

Finally, he spoke.

‘It is... oh, too blue, too, too blue… there is the gold of his hair, the peach of his skin, the pink and the white of his old scars... the dark steel of his warrior resolve wrapped around the fire of his courage and the blue eyes, over everything, the most important thing is the blueness... this is truly a moving and beautiful painting...’ He turned his head and everyone present could see a sheen of tears in his eyes. ‘Oh, Glorfindel, this could only have been done by one who loves you... I am glad, really, so very glad you are loved and honoured as this shows…’

Ecthelion shook his head and answered with sharp swiftness.

‘Of course I love Glorfindel I always have, from the first moment I saw him. How could I help but honour him? He is MY light and My joy, and if I stress the possessive pronoun, understand; when necessary, I am given to being extremely possessive where Glorfindel is concerned.’

The smuggest smile in the world grew on Glorfindel’s face and he cuddled Thel against him, placing a smacking kiss on his cheek. Ecthelion patted gently at his shoulder, smiling into his eyes.

‘Not that I am often required to display such unattractive attributes.’

Parvon inclined his head.

‘Lord Ecthelion, I can only apologise for my fëa-mate – since he seems unable to do so for himself – and beg your pardon for any distress this… misunderstanding has caused.’

The dryness of Parvon’s tone drew Triwathon’s attention away from the oil painting and he scrambled to his feet.

‘Yes, yes, of course, Ecthelion, Glorfindel, sorry, I am… I am really sorry, I… got a little…’ He sought for words, snatched at the word Glorfindel had offered him earlier. ‘Confused, perhaps. Having never met you before we landed, Lord Ecthelion, it was perhaps too easy to project onto you what I expected or assumed… and it may be too many of the ways of the modern world followed me across the Sundering Seas, the wrong expectations. Of you, Glorfindel, and Parvon, and of… of myself, I think.’

Looking at Parvon with a shrug and then returning his attention to the canvas, he continued in soft, thoughtful tones.

‘Glorfindel saved me, you see. Then he saved us and so it was natural to…’

‘And exactly what do you think you need saving from in Valinor?’ Parvon asked. ‘For that matter, yes, Triwathon, Glorfindel saved you from your loneliness, he saved us all from the dragons… but after that, once he was dead – forgive me, my lord Glorfindel, for mentioning it – who saved you then? Who protected you when – he’s still dead, so I cannot name him but from… him? Who saved you from the stake, the gibbet? Who got you out of jail when the rest of the prisoners were looking at your long hair with hungry eyes? Who, Triwathon, who kept you safe from the skinheads and the thugs and the homophobes?’

‘You, Parvon, of course, it was you, every time after…! And do not think I am not grateful, that I do not regret every moment’s pain I gave you; I did not think we would ever come here, I did not think I would ever see him again and all the old feelings came back and… it was too much. I was foolish and bewildered and, oh, his eyes are still too blue and…’

‘That’s enough,’ Parvon said. ‘Glorfindel, I can see you want to care for your husband; I have intruded too long. If you will excuse me, I will take my leave of you; be well, my friends.’

The Silvan bowed and turned towards the door. Triwathon stared after him.

‘Parvon? What about me?’

‘Yes, indeed… what about you?’ Parvon kept his tone dispassionate, but Glorfindel, watching, saw his throat convulse and guessed he was struggling to remain distant from his husband. 

‘Aren’t… aren’t I coming with you?’

Parvon shrugged. His voice, when he spoke, had a hint of a tremor to it.

‘I have no idea, Triwathon. I do not seem to know what you want since we landed any more than you do. You apologise, and rightly, to Glorfindel and Ecthelion and yet not to me; did it not occur to you that I, too, am owed at least a word or two…?’

‘I am sorry I did not say… but it seemed to me that any words would sound empty and trite; I did not want to diminish the severity of my transgression as it might seem to you, but I only spoke a few words, and I did not mean…’ Triwathon broke off and took a breath. ‘Parvon, husband, fëa-mate, friend of so many years… will you not pardon me? Forgive me?’

Parvon paused for too long before replying.

‘Husband?’ Triwathon’s voice was pleading. ‘Can you not find it in you to forgive me? You are so much wiser than I, so much more calm and patient…’ 

‘It is possible that I might… but…’

‘I am grateful! Parvon, really, I became swept away by the moment and everything and I assure you, I will not ever…’

‘Yes. You will not ever. Not ever again. Don’t slide your eyes towards our hosts, yes, it is true that Ecthelion has forgiven Glorfindel repeatedly, but only for one transgression and…’

‘Two, strictly speaking,’ Glorfindel put in. ‘Just to be clear.’

‘None, in fact, for there was nothing to forgive; Glorfindel I had released from our vows and we were not married when he died,’ Ecthelion added. ‘But since he believes, down in the heart of his fëa, that he needs to ask my pardon, I freely grant it… Your case, Triwathon, is different.’

‘…only imagined transgressions,’ Parvon continued sternly, and Ecthelion was reminded that the Silvan had served in the King’s Office where an air of authority must have been required for his duties – ‘nevertheless, Glorfindel’s contrition I understand to have been heartfelt. You? Do you even realise…?’

‘But, Parvon… I thought… I thought you loved me…’

‘As, in fact, I thought you did me. I hear the bewilderment in your voice, but really, why? Did you think that simply being loved means you have permission to treat me badly? It does not, it ought not, it…’

He broke off and put his hands to his head, turning away as he caught at his braids in frustration.

‘This is what will happen,’ he said. ‘If –and at present, I reserve the right for it to be “if” – if I am to forgive you, then we need to talk. Privately and freely and excessively. If I am to excuse your atrocious lapse, we will be more Gondolin; when we address each other we will speak our kindnesses, we will use such terms of affection as we feel we wish. There will be none of this, “But nobody speaks like that these days, Parvon,” no “But why would you want to expose our affections so publicly, Parvon?”, for I believe if we had, if we did – if you had only said you had longings for Glorfindel still – then we would not have come to this. And so, my still-beloved-in-spite-of-this-incident husband, I am going to leave now.’ He dropped his hands and stalked across to Triwathon, pulling him close to kiss him almost violently in his passion, releasing him abruptly. ‘You know I love you still and will never stop. But that does not give you licence to torment me. So, I intend to follow Lord Oromë into the forest; one or other of our lords will have a King’s Office of some sort where I may find occupation. I will leave behind all the trappings of the modern world, which has tainted us so badly. If you wish to be with me, you may come too. And you can show me by your actions and behaviour how much you truly wish to be reconciled. My lords Glorfindel, Ecthelion, I will send word of Lord Oropher as soon as I have any news. I am grateful for all you have done to assist we Silvans since we landed. Be well.’

With a bow and a swish of his tawny hair, Parvon left the room, striding out with his head held high. Triwathon gawped, then looked to Glorfindel and Ecthelion for help. Glorfindel shook his head.

‘Well? If you love him, if you ever loved him, go after him!’

‘But… I do not know if he has forgiven me or not…’

‘The only way to ensure he does is to follow him and keep working hard to deserve it,’ Ecthelion said. ‘I wish you well, Triwathon.’

‘Go on,’ Glorfindel said, draping an arm around Ecthelion’s shoulders and making shooing gestures with his free hand. ‘Now, hurry, or you’ll have to keep running after him all the way to the forests.’

*

Once the Silvan had hurried from the studio, Glorfindel drew Thel close and brought him to stand in front of the abstract. He sighed.

‘I really don’t see it like Triwathon did, Thel. Still can’t believe it is actually complete. But… it seemed to give him the idea that you love me, so perhaps it’s finished enough. And maybe I can’t see it because I don’t really believe I deserve to be loved by someone as amazing and wonderful and gorgeous as you.’ He sighed. ‘I’m really glad I am, though, Thel. Thank you, thank you for loving me, for being patient with me while I try to love you as much.’

From somewhere outside they heard Triwathon’s voice, calling out for Parvon to please wait for him. Glorfindel sighed.

‘Can’t help but feel sorry for them. Mostly for Parvon; you could see he hated being so stern with Triwathon, but at the same time… if he lets it go too easily, who’s to say he might not find himself needing to forgive something else…? Not me, oh, I hope you know I don’t mean that, but… forest full of Silvans, old friends, reunions… then again, if Parvon hadn’t turned up when he did, he’d never have known Triwathon was being silly…’

‘Of course, you had it all under control, I assume?’ Ecthelion found he could be amused, now it was over and the Silvans gone. ‘A few words of wisdom from you, and of course Triwathon would have seen the error of his ways…?’

‘I’d like to think so. Although I was on the point of running away… and then I saw you, Thel, it was awful, seeing you falling like that, and the Valar bless Parvon, everything that was going on and he still stopped to help you.’

‘Unlike you; I gather you abandoned your weeping friend to come to me.’

‘Of course. Well, I didn’t want to make it worse, couldn’t even pat his shoulder, he’d have misunderstood.’ Glorfindel cuddled his arms around Thel. ‘Besides, you matter to me. He doesn’t.’

‘Then perhaps I pity Triwathon a little more than I pity Parvon.’ Ecthelion shuddered, began to tremble again as he released the last of the awful, awful fear that had gripped him so deeply.

‘Thel?’ Glorfindel gathered him in, slid a hand under his hair to caress his neck. ‘It’s all right, they’ve gone, they’ve really gone, all of them. Bit of peace at last, eh? How are you feeling now?’

‘Oh, Glorfindel, my heart, my soul, I… what is it you say? Make me real, Glorfindel. Take me away and make me real, remind me of who I am and who you are and who we are together, I need…’

‘Come on, then. Going to let me carry you? I’d like to carry you; after all, you’ve been carrying me around all this time… my turn to look after you now, yes?’

‘There is no need for that; I am not quite so incapacitated!’

‘Ah, but my arms full of moonlight, it would be wonderful to hold you, to know you trust me not to drop you… go on, let me?’

Ecthelion sighed as if he wasn’t really smiling.

‘Oh, very well, then; carry on.’


	35. An Unexpectedly High Tide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Glorfindel and Ecthelion reaffirm their relationship and Fin takes Thel to watch the tide...

Lalbes was arranging things on a tray when Glorfindel backed into the suite with Ecthelion cuddled gently in his arms. She straightened up, casting a measuring eye over them.

‘Be careful you do not drop your husband, Lord Glorfindel! Now, there is spiced tea here, and soup in the stone jar on the hearth with bread and cheese and fruit on the platter for your daymeal. If you need anything, call.’

‘Thank you, Lalbes.’ Glorfindel set Thel down on the sofa, sitting next to him. ‘As usual, you’re amazing.’

‘Yes, well, just you remember, simply because you are elves and can miss a few meals with impunity, it does not mean you ought to… make sure you eat. Both of you. Bruiven and I will look after the little goats for you, Lord Glorfindel, so you can take care of Lord Ecthelion today.’

*

‘That sounds pleasant,’ Ecthelion said once alone with his husband, trying for a lightness of tone that belied the dread that had gripped him so recently and which still had not entirely faded. ‘Although I am not sure I want the daymeal just yet.’

‘No?’ Fin grinned. ‘I was going to feed you soup, love.’

‘Ai… can you imagine the spillage…?’

Glorfindel’s grin widened. ‘So we’d perhaps better get undressed first, just in case? It’s very hot in here with that fire blazing away…’

Ecthelion smiled.

‘That would be rather fun, although I must admit I am feeling the cold just a little…’

‘What, still?’ Glorfindel turned anxious eyes on his husband. ‘Now you’re worrying me…’

‘No, do not fret, my darling friend. Just give me a little of that tea. Of course,’ Ecthelion accepted the cup and sipped carefully. ‘If you are too warm, you could always divest yourself of your garments.’

‘Now, that’s my kind of plan!’ Fin lost no time stripping down to his leggings. After removing his boots, he unclipped his braid clasps and shook out his hair. ‘Barefoot and unbound, Thel, my moonlight song, just as you like me.’

‘Ah, I like you many other ways too, or had you not noticed?’ Thel set down his cup, half closing his eyes and leaning in to bring his mouth close to Glorfindel’s face. ‘My darling beloved, I think the best way to ensure I am thoroughly warm would be if you were to share your body heat with me… do you think you might do that for your poor, cold husband?’

Glorfindel swallowed, suddenly overwhelmed by the surge of love he felt for his fëa-mate.

‘Huddle together for warmth? Oh, I think I could manage that for you, Thel.’

He took Thel’s hands and gently helped him up from the sofa. Ecthelion smiled down into his face and kissed the tip of Glorfindel’s nose, making him grin.

‘Thel…’

‘Take me to bed, my most lovely Glorfindel, with your guardian eyes so blue…’ Ecthelion closed his eyes to kiss Glorfindel’s mouth, a slow, sensual meeting of lips that managed to be chaste and erotic at the same time. ‘Undress me with your wonderful hands, stroke my skin with your strong fingers, touch and kiss me, let me feel you in my arms, in my body… make me real by the reality of your touch, the weight of your body, the warmth of your love. Take me.’

‘Oh, Thel, sweetheart…’

Glorfindel cupped Ecthelion’s head in his hands, his thumbs framing his face, and kissed him hungrily, pressing his bare chest close as Thel put his arms around his golden love. Gently moving back, Fin steered them towards where he remembered the bed to be, too busy enjoying the kiss to want to open his eyes and look. He stopped with a bump as he collided with the foot board. The kiss broke.

‘Oops.’

‘Oops, indeed.’ Ecthelion smiled and drew a finger down Glorfindel’s throat to weave across his collar bone. ‘You are so delightfully bare, my sunlight, while I am encumbered…’

‘Let me help you, then.’

Glorfindel reached for the fastenings on Thel’s coat, slid it from his shoulders, tugged at the ties of his shirt. The wide neck gaped as Fin pulled apart the lacings, revealing silky, milky skin and giving just a glimpse of one rose-tinted nipple as the garment slipped. Fin swallowed, pushing his hands under the soft linen fabric and pulling it off over Ecthelion’s head before drawing him in for a close-body hug.

‘Just to make sure you’re warm enough, my moonlight, my love. You’d be warmer in bed, yes?’

‘Darling, yes…’

Easing Thel down onto the yielding mattress, Fin pulled off his husband’s boots and unlaced his leggings, sliding him free while shoving away his own leggings so that he could lie naked and hot on his beloved, covering him and enjoying the soft and hard and firm contours of Thel’s body, cool against his, but not cold, not so cold, how worried he had been… 

He shook the thought away, returning to the beautiful body waiting for him… that Thel loved him still, after everything, it was humbling and moving… 

‘Glorfindel, beloved sunlight, I need you.’

…and that was what was so stunningly unbelievable, that someone like Thel could need someone like Fin…

…but when Glorfindel rolled to bring Thel over on top of his body, there was no doubting the yearning in his kiss, the passion in his heart, and Fin set aside his self-doubt because, really, how could he be so silly when his senses were filled with Ecthelion’s love and desire, and yet Thel was trembling, his eyes somehow anxious, shining with unshed tears.

‘Thel, I love you, my moonlight armful of love.’

‘Oh, my Glorfindel…!’ Ecthelion lost the lightness, the teasing tone of his voice and instead the rawness of his emotion came through. ‘When I heard Triwathon declare himself…! I knew in that instant that I could not live without you; I would fade, even here, even in Valinor…’

‘You never thought I’d leave you? Oh, my poor Thel, lovely Thel, I wouldn’t! I love you, I’m married to you, I made all the promises in the world to you…’ Fin swallowed, shaking his head. ‘Of course I wouldn’t do that. If… if you had, you know, faded… I would have walked straight into the sea and not turned back. Because I wouldn’t want to be without you, Thel, I couldn’t do it. Not again. Not even to save the world would I give you up… I couldn’t…’

‘I know, my beloved, I know, but… the fears of my fëa were stronger than my reason. My love for you was too much to think through…’

‘Well, then, the best thing you can do, sweet Thel, is stop thinking. Works for me.’

It was said to make Thel smile, and it worked, after a fashion. Glorfindel lifted up for a kiss and Ecthelion latched onto his mouth, leaning in to press Fin down on the pillows again. An urgent, hard push of Glorfindel’s groin as his body hardened caused Thel’s own need to quicken, and he shivered as Fin ran slow fingers down his spine to cup his buttocks, fingers pressing into the soft flesh and fine muscles, grazing more delicate, sensitive places. Thel gave a whimper and rocked his hips against Fin’s body.

‘Then take me, Fin,’ he said amongst the kisses. ‘Stop me from thinking, just fill me, my body, my heart, my fëa, make everything you are and everything I am the same…’

Glorfindel rolled again to bring himself over Thel’s long body, flailing with one hand for the flask of oil on the nightstand, suddenly desperate to do as Thel asked, to be buried deep in the centre of him, to be lost there and find himself again.

Encouraging Thel to turn for him, he slicked his fingers and reached around Thel’s body with one hand while oiling himself with the other. Ecthelion gasped softly and twisted round to fasten his mouth on Glorfindel’s, jumping as Fin’s questing fingers caused a spark of pleasure to spike inside him. He was turned again, the kiss breaking, and he caught a glimpse Glorfindel’s eyes, hugely blue, deeper than the ocean, focussed on him with love before he was facing downwards, his body supported by pillows and the hard, blunt promise of Fin’s erection pushing against him.

He felt heated breath on his hairline, Glorfindel folding his braids out of the way to kiss his neck, between his shoulder blades, down his spine.

‘Beautiful, my Thel, so beautiful…’ He drew his hands along Thel’s side to grasp his hips and wriggled just a little, making Ecthelion whimper and push. ‘Yes, Thel, love? Yes?’

‘Yes, beloved light, yes, I need you, my golden sunlight, I…’

Fin slid into Thel’s body as if it was a blessing. He groaned and pulled Ecthelion’s hips back and pushed further in, feeling the heat of him, the tight, hugging closeness.

‘Thel, oh, my Thel, that’s right, that’s where we are, together, that’s what’s real.’ 

‘My light, my love…’ 

Thel moved against him and Glorfindel leaned forward to encircle him with his arms, to hold close against him as he thrust with his hips, finding a rhythm, seeking the right angle for Ecthelion’s bliss. When Thel cried out into the pillows and shivered beneath him, he knew he had found it, he was there, and the quickening response of his beloved made his own desire and need the more potent as Ecthelion whimpered and gasped and moaned with every push and thrust and pull.

‘I love you,’ Fin said, timing his thrusts to his words, as if to emphasise them. ‘You, Thel, my moonlight, my home, my haven.’

‘Ah, my Fin, my sunlight, my soul…’ Ecthelion shuddered, dipped his head forward. ‘Hold me, my love, now, hold me, and… ai…!’

Glorfindel reached round to take Thel’s erection in his hand, encompassing him snugly, his other arm close around his waist. He could feel the building pressure, the heady jolts of excitement rising in his loins, could tell from the closeness of Thel’s body around him that his beloved was close, and he held on, trying to prolong the moment for him until Ecthelion quivered and shouted into the pillows, his orgasm bursting out of him and his body grabbing at Glorfindel, pulling him to his own climax, a wash of heat and singing blood and ecstasy and his own voice joined with Thel’s in rough harmony as they shuddered together into the slow, subsiding peace that followed.

Gently easing free, Fin settled on his side and slid his arm under Thel’s neck, cuddling in, holding him as close as Ecthelion held him when he needed to cry but couldn’t admit it.

It didn’t feel as if Thel was crying, but there was a silence to him Fin couldn’t quite read. He didn’t want to be quiet, though, not after so intense a loving, not when he wasn’t quite sure Thel was all right. He thought back to what Ecthelion had been saying, that he wanted Fin to make him real. Well, he knew what that was like for himself, at least.

‘The thing about being real,’ he began. ‘According to Námo, that is – it’s a mingling of what we think it is, and what other people think it is, too. We make our own reality, sort of thing. And for me, what’s real, what makes me real, is being with you, being loved by you, loving you. You bring me back, you remind me what matters isn’t me, it’s us. Where I get muddled is when other people’s ideas try to make me into their idea of the Hero of Gondolin, the Balrog-Slayer… they see me as this perfect, noble ellon and we both know I’m not that. Don’t want to be that, however much I play up to it.’

Ecthelion stirred against him, stroked Glorfindel’s encompassing arm.

‘You do so only to hide your true nature, beloved light. It honours me to be trusted with your personal truth.’

‘Love you, Thel. Never going to stop loving you. That’s the only personal truth I know, or need.’

Ecthelion turned in Fin’s arms, the silver tracks of tears shining on his face.

‘You have the most beautiful soul, my beloved. Thank you. Thank you for seeing my need, for your generosity, your loving.’

‘Any time, my sweet Ecthelion.’ Glorfindel grinned. ‘Well, perhaps not every time, I love it when you take me, the strength of you and so gentle. But…’

Thel smiled and kissed his brow.

‘For now, my light, hold me. Kiss me. When you are ready…’

‘I’m always ready for you, my Thel!’ Glorfindel protested, bumping his groin into Ecthelion. 

‘Ah, and so you are! But indulge me, my most beloved Glorfindel, my shining golden joy! What shall we do with such a magnificent display of desire?’

He pulled himself up out of Glorfindel’s arms in an elegant, fluid surge of muscles to kneel astride him, arching back to free his own erection, to stretch out his back and Fin gasped at the beauty of the long, moonlight body, the slide of those muscles, the elegant power displayed. He sighed, suddenly desperate again, longing to feel Ecthelion buried deep in the centre of him. 

Ecthelion smiled down at him, plied the oil, investigated Glorfindel’s secret places and pulled the pillows down to push beneath his hips as he lifted Fin’s legs to lock around his waist to give him access to his beloved’s body.

A little – a very little wriggling and writhing and he felt Glorfindel open to him, pushing onto his erection Sitting back up with his eyes closing in concentration, in bliss, he pressed in and invaded Glorfindel’s body with slow, tentative ease.

‘Ah, my Glorfindel, that feels wonderful!’ He flexed his hips and felt Fin shudder beneath him. ‘Yes, you hold me so close, and I fill you and our bodies fit together as do our fëar. Perfect.’

He dropped forward suddenly, his weight on his forearms placed either side of Fin’s shoulders, his mouth finding Glorfindel’s again, the kiss an urgent meeting of mouths and he felt Glorfindel’s legs lock more tightly around his waist, his arms lock around his neck and they moved together in frantic, heady love until Glorfindel tightened and whimpered and bucked his hips, and Ecthelion threw back his head and thrust, and thrust, and spent himself with delicious bliss in his centre and everything came together in the most perfect reality. 

*

Presently, Glorfindel carried Ecthelion into the bathing pool, washed him and kissed him, anxious to be sure he had taken no real harm, and later they had their daymeal by the fire, lounging in silk nightwear and exchanging smiles and looks and occasional words. But most of the talking had been done; all they needed now was to allow themselves to settle back into their routine of being Ecthelion and being Glorfindel, being together and delighting in the simplicity of their lives together.

Next morning, Ecthelion found himself waking to gentle butterfly kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, his lips.

‘It’s early, love, I know, but I want to show you something. To see it with you, sort of thing.’

‘Hmm?’ It was the closes approximation to ‘what now, beloved?’ that Ecthelion could manage at that moment, but Glorfindel took it for agreement.

‘Here’s your robe – I know you don’t need it, but Lalbes has arrived early and she does scold if she sees too much skin before breakfast. Come on. There, that’s it.’

‘Where are we going, my sunlight? To watch the dawn come up across the Seas?’

‘Not the dawn, gorgeous Thel. The tide.’

He took Ecthelion’s hand and tugged him out of their rooms, through the house and onto the balcony. 

‘Do you see, Thel?’

‘I am not sure… what am I looking at?’

Below, the tide was racing, higher than usual, Ecthelion thought, and yesterday high tide had been in the middle of the day, but he still did not quite grasp… 

And then he saw the footprints on the soft sand that lay above the tideline, imprints of several pairs of feet. As the realisation began to settle on him – that was where Triwathon had declared himself to Glorfindel, where Glorfindel had backed away from him, where Parvon had hurried down to his spouse once Glorfindel had come to Ecthelion’s side, the imprints of yesterday waiting for the wind to slowly, inexorably, brush them away.

Except for the actions of the rushing tide, surging up the beach, claiming more sand with every wave, withdrawing to show a fresh-washed strand. Every ebb and flow reached further, refreshing more of the sand.

The clatter and bang of a door at the other end of the villa, prim footsteps on the wooden veranda.

‘Save us, my lords! Are we going to be washed away?’

‘I think not, Mistress Lalbes; I think it is simply a cleaning of the beach for us. An unexpectedly high tide.’

‘And a good thing too, my lords! We don’t want to be looking at the sand and thinking about that nasty incident for any longer than we have to, do we? Well, if you are sure our dear Lord Ulmo is not cross with you for anything, my lord Glorfindel, I will go and start your breakfast. It is good to see you looking better today, Lord Ecthelion. But you ought to dress, you know; there is still a cool breeze coming off the sea.’

‘Mother hen,’ Ecthelion said, and leaned in to kiss her cheek. She batted him away, pleased but flustered, making Glorfindel laugh.

‘Good idea, though, clothes,’ he said. ‘And we might have time to look in on the kids before breakfast if we hurry.’


	36. 'Out and About, a Little...'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ecthelion and Glorfindel settle back into their lives together again...

A few days saw Ecthelion and Glorfindel settling back into their former routine. There were baby goats to play with – soon, the kids were allowed out into the small paddock with their dam, adding a whole new dimension to their games, for now they could clamber all over Glorfindel on the grass, as well as in their pen – beaches to walk on, goats to be pampered, love to be made, and the contentment of their chosen lifestyle blanketed them both again. 

As well as his regular Goat-Pampering Day, Glorfindel insisted they needed a weekly Ecthelion-Pampering day, too, and although Thel rolled his eyes and insisted he was not standing in a bucket in the paddock for anyone, not even his beloved sunlight, he was secretly delighted, and found he rather enjoyed allowing Glorfindel to fuss over him in the privacy of their bathing room, to dress his hair and select clothes for him. Generally, these sessions ended with the clothes coming off again and the elaborate hairstyles getting rather mussed, but that, too, was delightful.

They stayed around the villa and their holdings, spending time on Fin’s favourite beaches, but more often, now, Glorfindel would ask, ‘What would you like to do today? As well as me, that is…?’

It made Thel smile; however shaken he had been by Triwathon’s declaration, it seemed Glorfindel had been shaken, too, in his own way, and seemed determined to be more loving in as many ways as he could to reassure Ecthelion that he really had not been interested in the Silvan… not that Ecthelion ever doubted; his response at the time had been the panic of his fëa, not the fear of his heart. But Glorfindel’s efforts and Ecthelion’s acceptance of them reaffirmed and strengthened their bond, and he felt happier, more content, and Glorfindel slept better, with fewer bad dreams setting him whimpering and needing waking with gentle affection.

One morning, after the rapidly-growing goatlings had been played with and Glorfindel had splashed in the tide for an hour, Ecthelion watching him with joy in his heart, they had returned to the villa to wash and change, and were sitting by the fountain planning their afternoon when Mistress Lalbes walked out to bow and beg their pardon for the interruption.

‘But there are visitors, my lords, if you are free.’

‘Oh, how pleasant!’ Ecthelion said, smiling. ‘It has been weeks since we last had company ; I had begun to think someone had erected “keep away” signs on our boundaries.’

‘Ah my Bruiven took those down two days ago, my lord Ecthelion,’ Lalbes countered.

‘What?’ Ecthelion asked. ‘Glorfindel? Did you put up notices?’

‘Of course not!’ Fin said, laughing. ‘We joked about doing it, though, didn’t we, Lalbes? But I would if I’d needed to, love; we needed a little bit of recovery time.’

‘Perhaps so, but it is over a month since we had even a sniff of a guest, and given the sociable nature of our newly arrived friends, it is a little bit of a mystery, do you not think?’ Ecthelion lifted an elegant eyebrow in Lalbes’ direction. ‘I would have thought someone would have gossiped by now…’

‘In fact, my lords, I was in town one day not long after that especially high tide we had… and fell in with Mistresses Araspen and Merlinith… they asked after you both particularly…’ Lalbes had the grace to turn a delicate shade of pink. ‘I did not wish to bother you, my lords, at the time. They had heard, of course, about… everything. Well, I happened to see the same ladies at the harbour market two days since and it may be as a result of this that you now have visitors come…’

‘That is fine, I think we are happy to say hello… Is it our friendly crochet ladies, Lalbes?’ Ecthelion asked. ‘Have we kept them waiting long?’

‘In fact, it is that nice Commander Canadion and his husband. They have been sitting with me in the kitchens while you were busy washing after playing with the goats. Shall I send them out, my lords?’

‘And refreshments for us all, please, if you have not already plied our guests with such.’

*

The two Silvans emerged from the house, Thiriston with his arm around Canadion’s shoulders. They were both in their kilts, the latter today wearing his specially-styled version with a pink blouse and purple wedge boots that left only an inch or two of leg showing between their tops and the hems of his skirts. Both looked happy; Canadion joyous, in fact, and greeted them with a delighted smile as he sat down.

‘Well met, mellyn-nin! We are come to give you all the best gossip, as Mistress Lalbes tells us you have been busy with goats and had no time until now for visitors. It was very strange, walking past the meadow where we were all camped and seeing it empty except for grass and flowers! I hope all is well, are your kids flourishing?’

‘Indeed, yes, we are delighted in their progress, thank you for asking. You are still in uniform, I see?’

‘We are so, and there is much to tell about our future employment… but first, really, we are come to offer news of our Founding King, for so his designation has been decided.’

‘Oropher, you mean?’ Glorfindel asked. ‘How is the old villain?’

Canadion’s dimpling grin peeked out.

‘I think the term, “in rude health” just about sums him up; he is exuberantly well, has remembered every misdemeanour our Elvenking committed as a child and has been regaling us all with them… and saying he hopes Thranduil will be better behaved when his newly-expected sibling comes along… it is really very entertaining!’

‘Sibling?’ Ecthelion queried. ‘Goodness me, he has found his feet again!’

‘Well, maybe not his feet, exactly,’ Glorfindel said with a laugh. ‘The old goat… I suppose that explains why he and Evil-Eyed El hit it off so easily!’

‘But that is marvellous news!’ Ecthelion said. ‘I am thrilled to hear his recovery has been so complete… will he be wanting to take charge of his Silvans again, I wonder? And, dear me, what will the Elvenking do if so?’

‘All sorted,’ Thiriston said. ‘Oropher’s going to the enclave in the heart of Lord Oromë’s forest, the one Erymes was looking after. Everyone who wants to go right back to the old days and ways will join with him there. Thranduil’s setting up on the fringes of the forest…’

‘Outside Lord Oromë’s preserves, where nobody can fall foul of his laws on poaching,’ Canadion added. ‘Legolas is going to be in charge of a new settlement for those who lived a long time in the modern world and don’t really want to bury themselves away yet, or give up things like washing cascades and zippers.’

‘And gorgeous shoes, presumably?’ Ecthelion asked, and Canadion smiled, ducking his head away.

‘Oh, my adar has said he will store my shoes for me, if necessary,’ he said. ‘We were honoured that our Founding King offered us a place in his personal guard in the deep forest… but then, when he left seclusion and visited the enclave, there were so many Silvans who remembered him, and whom he wished to reward with a place in his guard, that it would have given him a standing army, practically, rather than a guard of honour! So it was agreed that people would serve by turns. Thiriston and I are considered to have just finished a tour with our Founding King, in fact, for we were there at his retreat and are currently on stand-down time – and next we will help Legolas establish his settlement, and then we will return to Thranduil’s guard for a time before returning to the deep forest again. It is a perfect compromise, for Thiriston loves the dark woods, and I like the thought of being near to my father, so this suits us both very well.’

‘How fortunate,’ Ecthelion said. 

‘Yes, indeed. There has been one settled posting; Commander Triwathon, whose name I know is known here, he and his husband Parvon happened to arrive at one of the retreats near where we were staying in service to Oropher. A strange chance, them being there, is it not? But Oropher seemed to take to them both, so Triwathon is head of his guard and Parvon his advisor, he said Parvon was a sensible ellon after his own heart. And so. Here we are with all sorts of plans…’

‘Plans! How exciting!’ Ecthelion said, for mention of Triwathon and Parvon seemed to have rendered Glorfindel unable to speak. ‘Are they the sort you might share?’

‘We were thinking – not just us, but many of our friends and fellow-travellers – that it might be nice to get married again. Here, in our new home, to repeat our vows or make new ones. With the New Year festivals approaching, it seems the perfect time…’

‘Now, that’s rather a nice idea!’ Glorfindel said with a wink at Ecthelion. ‘What do you say, my Dandy Highwayman? We only had Lord Námo in attendance last time, and he’s not much of a one for the party mood…’

‘That is certainly true… I did rather feel it a pity that not more were there to witness it for us. But in a way it was better, perhaps, for at the time we did not notice how alone we were and we just wanted to be married…’

‘I do not know what to say! It sounds both terribly romantic and rather sad,’ Canadion said. ‘But you should, you must, come and renew your vows amongst us. I understand Prince Legolas and his Govon will do so, for the first time round they did not put much thought into it… and the Elvenking and Nestoril – now, we saw them take vows back east, and go through the human wedding ceremony, too; I was a bridesmaid, it was lovely… but now they are here, they want to dedicate themselves to their new lives in Valinor… many other couples, too… not my adas, though; it is their anniversary soon and they will renew on that day, midway between Yule and the New Year… it will be lovely, and I am in charge of bunting… you must come, it would be lovely to see you there…’

‘It all sounds very charming,’ Ecthelion said to cover Glorfindel’s grin.

‘Better tell Merlinith to get busy, then,’ Glorfindel said. ‘For that matter, I daresay Oropher could crochet a bit of bunting to help out if you were in a hurry… or shall we get him to make some just for us? Bespoke, as it were?’

‘Oh, so you think you will do it, then? Join in with our weddings? Even if you don’t want to renew your vows, you are welcome to be our guests, and join our party. But there is plenty of time to decide.’

*

Of course, there wasn’t plenty of time, not really. But that evening, once supper was cleared away and Glorfindel had listened to Thel playing his flute for a lovely hour, the matter came up again as twilight cloaked the sea.

‘Shall we do it, Thel?’ Glorfindel said, cradling his husband gently in his arms. ‘Shall we join the Silvans and their Sindar and make vows under the stars, promise ourselves to each other again? Would it make you happy, would it make you smile? I know; I will vow to never give you up, or to let you down, or to run around and desert you, to never make you cry or say goodbye… and…’

‘Ah, I think you are quoting, there… but it is an interesting idea…’

Glorfindel released his hold and dropped to his knees, spreading his arms and bursting into song as he enumerated the all the things Rick Astley had apparently said he was never going to do. By the end of it, Ecthelion was almost crying with laughter and Glorfindel giggling his way through the words.

‘Let’s do it, Thel, love, my moonlight song, my beautiful obsidian-haired haven! Let me swear to you in front of everyone to be yours and yours alone, to be ever-faithful and always true, to love you more than I ever imagined I could… and let me hear you say you love me in spite of all my failures…’

‘Darling sunlight, if it means so much to you, then gladly… I am sure it will be wonderful – but – I do not accept that you have in any way failed me, my most beloved… yes, we will be vowed in as spectacular fashion as you wish, my darling. On one condition; no Rick Astley, do you hear? He should be our guilty secret…’

‘All right. What shall we wear, shall we wear our jeans? Just for the fun of it? Or what? It’s so exciting!’ Glorfindel jumped up and pulled Ecthelion into his arms, dancing him round in a circle and singing the Rick Astley song again.

‘And no Oropheric bunting,’ Ecthelion added, when they lyrics had subsided and Glorfindel was softly humming under his breath. ‘I do not think Valinor is yet ready for such magnificence…’

‘Well, if you insist… it’s going to be marvellous, Thel, it really is! So, what do you say, shall we go for a walk tomorrow and drop in on the Mistresses Merlinith and Araspen, or stop by Master Baudh’s to wish his adas all the best for their own renewals?’

Ecthelion hesitated for a moment and Glorfindel held his breath. Since the incident with Triwathon, Thel hadn’t wanted to leave their holdings, hadn’t even liked heading towards town during their walks… it was getting to be time that he plucked up his courage a bit, maybe, in Fin’s opinion, but hopefully the visit from Canadion and Thiriston and the confirmation that all the Silvans were gone from their former camp would help….

‘Yes, why not?’ Ecthelion said, smiling. ‘It seems ages since we walked that way. After breakfast, perhaps, so that we will be back in time for your swim?’

‘Sounds perfect!’ Glorfindel said. ‘And lunch on the beach, perhaps.’

*

The planned expedition went well; they dressed in their jeans for the occasion and walked hand-in-hand together along the path, passing the little quay where the oddly-shaped ship had berthed and the Silvans had made landfall, past the edge of the meadow where the new arrivals had camped… it was empty now, the grass lush and rich and showing no signs of having supported tents and pavilions so comparatively recently… 

They paused, Ecthelion leaning in against his husband.

‘Just down there, beloved. Just off the path, in the edge of the dunes, that is where I reminded you how wonderful you are when you were doubting it, where I persuaded you that it would be nice to attend the welcome party… do you remember?’

‘I remember how convincing that tongue of yours was, certainly…’

Ecthelion laughed and Glorfindel cuddled his arm round him and they had continued on towards the harbour town more slowly, but more closely entwined. They intended a courtesy call on Merlinith and Araspen, having learned the location of their lodgings from Canadion the day before, and were greeted with delight by the Silvan ellith.

And questions, of course.

Araspen gently drew Ecthelion to one side under pretence of showing him the view out over the sea.

‘From here we can look down the coast to see where the forest begins, as well as the curve of the bay; it is rather lovely, although we might beg a spot in Prince Legolas’ planned settlement if it is nicely situated. Mistress Lalbes said you had been ill; a shock and a fall, although she also said if anyone were to ask, you have just been busy with your goats, I do hope you are recovered? And that Glorfindel has been taking good care of you?’

The unexpected sympathy made Ecthelion blink to clear eyes suddenly filling will tears.

‘Glorfindel has been wonderful, truly; I do not think an elf ever had a better, kinder, more loving husband… thank you, it was just a little incident, I am fine now. And it is true that the goats have been taking our time; the little ones are starting to explore solid food now, which means they will keep trying to sample Glorfindel’s braids…’

Araspen laughed and patted his arm, allowing the change of subject.

‘Would you and Glorfindel care to join us for supper one night?’ she asked. ‘You were so hospitable to us, it would be our pleasure to return the favour…’

‘Thank you; I will need to ask Fin, but we wanted to involve you – in a minor way – with an idea we have so that would be lovely…’

‘Oh? Might I ask…?’

Merlinith, on the other side of the room with Glorfindel, gave an exclamation which prevented Ecthelion from answering.

‘Oh, my dear, Glorfindel has just told me that… Ecthelion, how lovely for you both!’

‘I see Glorfindel has pre-empted me. Yes, we have a notion of renewing our vows at New Year… and to prevent Oropher making bunting for us in honour of the occasion, thought perhaps to ask your opinions…’

‘How wonderful!’ Araspen said, smiling. ‘So are we, in fact. Thus my first piece of advice will be – decide how much you want to share the day with other happy couples, for at the last count there were at least six pairings with the same idea…’

Ecthelion nodded. ‘I rather think that’s what Glorfindel wants, to let everyone see we are firmly bound to each other. Yes, it is worthy of thought, however, since if one were invited to several avowings, how would it be possible to attend them all…?’

‘Staggered times and private parties, followed by a massed celebratory feast afterwards,’ she replied. ‘That much has already been suggested. And what will you wear, both of you?’

Thel smiled. ‘Glorfindel wants us to wear our jeans,’ he said. ‘He thinks it will be fun, and will show that there is a place in Valinor for some modern concepts, if not quite all of them.’

‘Indeed, that is an interesting notion! Well, as you are here, do stay and take the day meal with us, yes?’

*

‘That was nice,’ Glorfindel said on their way home, much later than anticipated and now with the prospect of a late afternoon swim to look forward to. ‘I keep thinking, you know, about what Lalbes says, that we need to mix more with people. And then she drives them all away if she doesn’t approve of them!’

‘Indeed. But she is capable of changing her opinion; I do not know if you noticed, but yesterday she introduced our visitors as “that nice Canadion and his husband”. Yet at first it had been, “there is a Person to see you, a Silvan person…”’

Fin laughed. ‘Yes, I spotted that. Ah, well. Home and a swim, sound nice to you?’

‘Delightful; I will bring my sketch book, I think, and draw you cavorting in the waves…’

*

Now that the first trip outside their holdings had been made, the next was easier, and subsequent days found them visiting Master Baudh’s workshop in order to enquire after his fathers, and to allow themselves to be invited to Merenor and Hanben’s renewal ceremony by the ellyn themselves, rather than just accepting Canadion’s invitation at face value.

It was a charming affair, taking place on the evening of the cross-quarter day midway between Yule and New Year as the two long-vowed ellyn pledged themselves to continue to love, honour and annoy each other for the rest of their days together. Lanterns lifted, the traditional Silvan blessing ringing out: ‘Now, tomorrow, forever, may you live in love and light...’

‘Candlemass, the humans have taken to calling this day,’ Canadion said. ‘I think it sounds pretty, do you not?’

‘Pretty, indeed,’ Ecthelion said with a smile, taking Glorfindel’s hand and going to add their congratulations to those of the rest of the guests. ‘As, indeed, is the bunting; it is all rather lovely, in fact.’

The celebrations after, drinking and mingling and, actually, enjoying the company, meant the evening passed swiftly. If Ecthelion noticed that Parvon and Triwathon were not present, he didn’t draw Glorfindel’s attention to it and, for himself, Fin had no wish to risk spoiling the easy mood of the evening by stirring unwelcome memories.

In fact, the name of either was only mentioned once all evening.

Nestoril had paused to chat to them, her eyes sparkling amusement as she recounted Thranduil’s initial dismay at the news that he was about to become an older brother.

‘But we countered that rather easily with an announcement of our own, that said expected sibling was likely to be born to find he has a new nephew of almost the same age…’

‘Really? How very lovely for you,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Glorfindel, my most beloved shining sunlight, did you hear?’

‘Yes, well done, Ness. It will suit you, being a mother. Thel, my moonlight song, did we ask Ness to our renewal yet?’

‘I rather think we did, my joy and delight…’

Nestoril stifled a laugh.

‘Oh, I am sorry!’ she exclaimed. ‘But I was just thinking – there is a new habit amongst some Silvans, they speak with more endearments than formerly and I had not thought about it until now, but it followed from something Parvon said, that we should all be more Gondolin, be more Ecthelion… I wondered… but now I understand exactly!’

‘Ah, how strange to be influencing society still…’ Ecthelion said with a smile. ‘Do pass on our best wishes to Master Parvon, will you not? And his husband, of course.’

‘Yes, gladly. Triwathon and he currently have postings with Oropher, so we do run into them when we visit my Adar-in-Honour,’ Nestoril said, and went on her way without seeming to realise that mention of Parvon, or his husband, might have been a problem.

‘I am not distressed, of course not,’ Ecthelion assured Glorfindel as his beloved asked anxiously. ‘No, it is fine, beloved light… Do you know, I have had a delightful evening; sometimes it is fun to get out and about a little, but even so… have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight in those jeans of yours? Complete with zip that promises to go all the way down… is it too early for us to go home, yet?’

‘When you say things like that, darling Thel, it just makes me want to say, shall we run…?’


	37. What Ecthelion Saw...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ecthelion walks into town by himself and returns with startling news...

The days began to pass swiftly for Ecthelion and Glorfindel. Lambing was upon them, and the itinerant shepherds had arrive to be assured by Fin that the shepherd’s huts were all in excellent condition… the sheep were Ecthelion’s particular interest, although he was rather less hands-on than Glorfindel with his goats; sometimes, triplets were born, and there were lambs to hand rear, but not this season, and all went well with his small, but choice, flock.

They were also busy with plans for their avowal ceremony, of course, with all the bustle of making arrangements about wedding garments and choosing words and bunting. Master Merenor had been persuaded to resume his former role as Master of Matters Matrimonial, and as well as organising all the Silvan events, took kindly and avuncular charge of Thel and Fin, despite the fact that he was several thousand years their junior and, in fact, Glorfindel had given Merenor’s future husband a little talk on matters matrimonial ahead of their own wedding right back in the Third Age…

Word came that Oropher had decided he and Erymes would renew their vows, too, necessitating a little rejigging of the order of ceremonies and the addition of several score more guests; up until that point, Thranduil and Nestoril’s wedding was to be the climax of the evening, just after Legolas and Govon’s. Now Oropher had to be given pride of place, not that Thranduil or Nestoril minded.

‘But it does mean that everything else needs shifting around by half an hour,’ Merenor explained. ‘And so while we had intended the feast to be after Thranduil’s wedding, now it would be better if it were to follow after all the Silvan ceremonies, thus making a clear break between subjects and leaders… except…’

‘Except you do not know where to put us, do you?’ Glorfindel asked with a grin. ‘Well, we’re not bothered, not really… why not put us last of all, after Oropher?’

‘But… I would love to, my friends; after all, you have been here longest of everyone and you are lords of your houses…’

‘Except, Glorfindel, my darling light, it would cause ructions, as Mistress Lalbes would say!’ Ecthelion pointed out. ‘No, let us be either last before the feast, or first after it.’

‘Last before,’ Fin said, ‘and then I can sit down with you and enjoy the meal, sure in the knowledge you won’t faint from hunger and I will need to carry you home…’

Merenor grinned as Ecthelion shook his head, and decided to intervene.

‘Very good, if that is what you would like… it means you will follow on directly after Merlinith and Araspen, too…’

‘As long as there’s time to change the bunting,’ Glorfindel said, laughing. ‘I’ve seen their colour scheme, it’s lovely, but it’s not very Gondolin…’

‘And we’re all trying to be more Gondolin, are we not?’

‘We are indeed, Master Merenor, not that my most dear moonlight song was ever lacking in that department…’

‘Of course, if you then want a private party for your own friends, the timing might be tricky,’ Merenor said.

‘No, I do not think we will,’ Ecthelion told him. ‘Most of our friends are themselves renewing their vows and will have far better things to do, I think.’

‘Except for Lord Námo,’ Glorfindel said. ‘We should ask him. Mind, it might cause a bit of a panic amongst the other guests…’

‘We should, though include Lord Námo,’ Ecthelion said privately, on their way home. ‘He has been most attentive and a good friend, in his way. And he it was vowed us the first time; it would be a kind thought to ask him. Even if he is not the easiest of persons to contact.’

‘Besides which, he doesn’t know the first thing about dressing for parties…’

Still, a message was sent, and a reply arrived to say Lord Námo would be delighted to attend, although he might not appear at the forefront of festivities, lest he disturb the celebrations unduly. 

It made Fin smile.

‘Not that it will hide him from any who’ve been his guests, of course,’ he said.

A week before New Year and once more the elders of the harbour town were annoyed to find the open meadow near the harbour awash with pavilions and Silvans as people arrived for the forthcoming celebrations.

Ecthelion and Glorfindel took to walking by the beach path to town.

‘Not from any discomfort, or wish to avoid any particular individuals,’ Ecthelion said, on a visit to Merlinith and Araspen, ‘But because there really is not time to greet everyone, and stay to hear the gossip for as long as seems to be required.’

‘Of course, even here in the town we are full of talk of avowals, renewals, and expected births,’ Araspen said. ‘Now, Glorfindel, I think I should ask you to try on your wedding tunic, as I have you both here, just to check the length; I am sure it is too short…’

‘Too long, you mean,’ Glorfindel said with a grin. ‘Everyone will be wondering just why Thel’s marrying me again…’

‘Why, to make sure you know you are married, darling, to stop you flirting with all these poor elves who will keep ogling you…’

Glorfindel batted his eyelashes and Araspen laughed. 

‘No, really, Glorfindel, the tunic is not too long,’ she said, ‘and I am debating whether or not to add a crocheted fringe to it just to be sure it is not too immodest, so if you do not behave yourself…’

Two days before their avowal, Ecthelion walked into town by himself for a last fitting of his garments with Mistress Merlinith.

‘Are you by yourself today so that your finished look will be a surprise for Glorfindel?’ Merlinith asked. ‘Because, if so, where will you change, and when? There has been talk of a pavilion just for such elves as wish to keep their wedding clothes secret, but organising everything so the garments do not get muddled is going to be chaotic and I would hate for your lovely clothes to get lost…! Can you imagine, if Oropher got to his turn to find the only thing left was Canadion’s new wedding kilt…?’

‘Ah, dear me, I had much rather not…! In fact, Fin wanted to come, of course, but since New Year’s Day coincides with Goat Pampering Day, he has decided to wash the goats today to make things easier…’

‘Could not Evil-Eyed El manage with mucky feet for a day or two longer?’

‘Quite possibly, but Glorfindel does enjoy the fussing around so much…’

Fin had wanted to come, of course, but had simply nodded when Thel had suggested going alone; it was the first time Ecthelion had felt comfortable enough to take what had used to be a regular walk without Fin’s company, and Glorfindel had recognised it as a turning point, a real breakthrough.

‘No, you go, if you like. But if you feel, you know, you can always turn around and come straight back home.’

‘Darling, I will be fine. And I know you want to wash goats’ feet today, dear me, such hobby to have…’

‘Well, just think; if we’d been an ordinary couple, we’d have been bathing babies instead. To be honest, I prefer the goats. They’re much more fun and don’t really make as much noise. I’ll do the nannies first, I think, but not the babies, not quite yet.’

 

Fin’s morning had passed quickly and he was happily engaged in sweet-talking Evil-Eyed El into his washing bowl when Ecthelion returned.

‘Darling sunlight, I have news…

‘Won’t be long, Thel, sweetheart, just want to get El prettied up…’

‘Glorfindel, beloved light of my life…’

‘Just a minute, pet…’

‘Fin, my joy…’

‘Won’t be long…’

‘Sweet Eru, Glorfindel of Gondolin, will you give me your attention for just a minute?’ Ecthelion demanded in warrior tones that made Fin flinch.

He gulped and dropped everything to hurry over, finally looking at his beloved and noticing with a growing sense of unease that he seemed a little pale.

‘Sorry, love, what’s up? You look a bit peaky… was everything all right in the town?’

‘Yes, all went well, it is not that, it is… as I neared the villa, I looked up the coast in case you had finished playing with your goats early and were bathing at the point… and I saw…’

Fin put his arm around Thel’s shoulders; he seemed to need a cuddle and it was a good opportunity for Glorfindel to show affection to his beloved, something he was trying to do as often as possible since he had realised how fragile Ecthelion could be.

‘What, love, what did you see? Lord Ulmo frolicking with the mer-ellith? Or what?’

‘There is a ship…’

‘What?’ Fin pulled away, shaking his head. ‘Oh, no, no, no, we’re not home, too busy, no ships today, thank you!’

His response made Ecthelion smile.

‘Yes, dearest, but I think you should come and see…’

‘I can’t I’ve got El’s feet to see to…’

‘I quite understand. I shall go and watch alone then, shall I?’

‘I… oh, Thel…! Look what happened last time there was a ship…’

‘Indeed; it made you very happy, for a time, led to all sorts of exciting incidents and one small and unfortunate event which has resulted in such delights as you regularly washing my hair and dressing me up so that you can undress me again, and perhaps it has even inadvertently spurred us on to our decision to renew our vows together; and then all that new music, our new friends Merlinith, Araspen, Merenor and Hanben… oh, and jeans, jeans with zips that go all the way up, and all the way down… on balance it was not so very bad, was it?’

‘Well, when you put it like that…’ Glorfindel turned towards his billy goat and wagged a finger at the animal. ‘Don’t you go running off, El; I’m coming back, do you hear me?’

That done, he gave Thel a brief, fervent hug, rocking him in his arms.

‘I love you, you know that I love you. Anyway, it will be fine, won’t it? There can’t possibly be anyone left in the east that we need to worry about… can there?’


	38. '...A Swan Front, And Everything...'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the unexpected vessel arrives...

Together Ecthelion and Glorfindel made their way through the house to the veranda to look out.

‘Up the coast, beloved, away from the town. Do you see?’

‘I do…’ Glorfindel ran down the steps to the beach for a better view, pulling Ecthelion with him. ‘But that’s not a ship, Thel, love, it’s a boat… it’s not even a foreign boat, look, it’s got a swan front and everything…’

‘It is certainly more beautiful than the last vessel…’

Beautiful, indeed, with its swan prow and soft, grey timbers, the little ship came flying over the waves, not from across the sea, but from the north, riding a little way out from the shore, hugging the coast. It was small, as Fin had said, a boat rather than a ship, and was obviously of native manufacture. As it approached, they saw two figures managing the single sail. Abruptly, one stopped work, spotting the villa and drawing his companion’s attention to it.

‘Thel, love, I think they’ve seen us…’

‘I think so indeed,’ Ecthelion agreed, for the second elf on the boat had begun to wave excitedly. ‘Perhaps they will sail past… ah. Let us back up a little; I am not dressed for paddling...’

A wave from nowhere built under the boat, moving against the general direction of the tide and, indeed, appearing to bend and carry the vessel directly towards the beach.

‘That’s not fair!’ Glorfindel exclaimed in dismay. ‘Lord Ulmo’s giving them a push towards us, he must be!’

‘Then we really ought to do our best to be polite, whomever they might be… ah, and you are all messy from goats, darling!’

‘Don’t care,’ Glorfindel said, a sulk in his voice. ‘And if they care, they can just be on their way…’

He fell suddenly silent as the waving elf began to shout and jump around in the bows.

‘Did not he just shout your name, my joy? I wonder whom it might be…’

‘Er… Thel…’ Glorfindel backed further up the beach. ‘I’ll just… need to sort El out, and…’

‘My light? Whatever is the matter…?’

‘Well, I think I know who that is… ah… remember I said there was someone after… someone who didn’t matter, sort of, who was just… nice? And, well, there when I was lonely?’

‘Yes…?’

‘I think… it might be him… oh, and the other ellon…? There was a kiss, well, he kissed me, but he thought it was a wine dream, he’d just had some bad news at the time so, please, don’t tell him, he’ll be ever so upset, he thought he only liked ellith… Thel? Please tell me you don’t mind too much…?’

Ecthelion shook his head as Glorfindel stared in an agony of guilt and fear… and laughed as he cupped Fin’s face in his hands.

‘My most beloved, my darling, light of my fëa, my sunlight, my joy… you are such a naughty, flirty Glorfindel, are you not? You told me about the one ellon, yes, I remember, and it is fine, really, darling; if he tries to run away with you I will just tell him about your obsession with smelly goats and your snoring… and that you are renewing your vows to me in two days. And if all else fails, I will set Lalbes onto him. Did he have a name, perchance…? Or the one who kissed you, allegedly in a wine-dream…?’

Before Fin could answer, the boat beached in a shushing surge of surf and shingle, riding high up the beach and the shouting elf leapt from the boat to pelt up the shore and engulf Glorfindel in a hug and dance him round with unexpected strength, planting a smacking kiss on his cheek.

‘Findel, it is you, it is you, it is, oh, this is wonderful, it is so nice to see you again, how are you?’

Bewildered by this affectionate onslaught, Glorfindel patted the ellon’s back and tried to escape. 

Ecthelion saw his beloved’s anxiety and, shaking with unexpressed laughter, called across.

‘Hug him back, Glorfindel, for Eru’s sake, I do not think there is any escape for you else!’

Shrugging over the ellon’s shoulder towards Thel, Fin did, finally, join in the hug with something like gladness.

‘Oh, Findel, this is wonderful!'

'Well, hello, you! This is a surprise!'

With a laugh, the elf pulled free… and with a whoop grabbed Ecthelion to swing him round in an even more exuberant embrace, although he forbore from kissing him.

‘And you must be his Ecthelion, oh, it is lovely to meet you, finally! I have heard all the stories, well, all the polite ones, even the ones that are not made into song! Findel was right, you are amazingly beautiful, no wonder he missed you so much… I am Melpomaen, I knew Glorfindel at Imladris. Ai, but I am so happy!’

Released at last, Ecthelion blinked and looked at the laughing face of the ellon who had greeted them both so fulsomely. He looked absurdly young, had long, dark hair and grey eyes and a friendly, happy expression and whereas, with Triwathon, Ecthelion had always been guarded, worried, with this ellon he wanted nothing more than to invite him into their home as Glorfindel’s dear friend from the old days. 

Before Ecthelion cold respond with a welcome, the ellon had danced off to his companion, swinging him round in an embrace as affectionate as those he had just bestowed on Fin and Thel.

‘We found them, we found them! And I had begun to think we never would, that people were being deliberately unhelpful! But here they are, our Glorfindel and his Ecthelion! Is it not wonderful?’

He turned and laughed joyfully, hurrying back over to Ecthelion.

‘Oh, I am so sorry!’ the newcomer said, a laugh in his voice. ‘I forgot, you are from Gondolin, and probably far more formal than I am… but I am just so delighted that we have found you! Oh, and this is Lindir; he is musical, too, although Findel used to say you played the flute much sweeter than my poor friend…’

‘Ah, Glorfindel was ever loyal to my playing,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Lindir, greetings; of you I have heard, the most talented harpist of the Third Age…’

‘You honour me, my lord.’ Lindir bowed. ‘I must confess, knowing I could never hope to match your musical talents, I gave up the flute almost entirely and spent my hours at the harp instead.’

‘Well, this is a delightful reunion indeed for my husband,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Are you here for the New Year festivities, the renewals, perhaps?’

‘Renewals?’ Lindir said. ‘No, we did not know there were any…’

‘What’s that?’ Melpomaen asked. ‘Well, we are always happy to attend a party… but in fact, no, we had heard a rumour that a boat arrived…’

‘It did, indeed.’

‘With Erestor and Arveldir on board?’ Melpomaen looked from Glorfindel to Ecthelion and back again. ‘For it is their ship we came to enquire for… we had quite given up seeking you!’

‘Ah, now, yes. Their boat did, indeed, make landfall, and not far from here… but that was a decade ago now,’ Ecthelion told him. ‘The latest vessel was very recent; just before Yule. There were… oh, I do not know, Glorfindel, how many on board?’

‘No idea,’ Fin said helpfully. ‘Two score Silvans, maybe more, a handful of Noldor, the crew…’

‘Oh…’ Lindir shook his head. ‘Do you know who? And what news of Erestor, is he well? For he was at Imladris for so long, and we have worried about him…’

‘Come into the house, why don’t you?’ Ecthelion said, smiling. ‘Our housekeeper will bring refreshments and we can talk in comfort; for there is more to tell, I think, than can be said in a few moments… for instance, I gather you have been seeking us for some time?’

‘Well, yes and no… Oh, and thank you, that is treating us like friends already, indeed! But there is something I must do first,’ Melpomaen said. ‘It will not take long.’

He turned and loped towards the sea, not stopping until he was up to his knees in the water.

‘Thank you!’ he called out. ‘Lord Ulmo of all the Oceans, thank you for bringing us safe to land. And here, to our friends, whom we had given up hope of! It is so kind of you! We are most grateful, Lord of the Seas! I am so happy, I am so happy to be here!’

Ecthelion heard a soft sigh from beside him and turned to see Lindir smiling softly.

‘It is like being with the oldest elfling in the world at times,’ the minstrel said. ‘He exhausts me!’

‘Ai! Welcome to my world,’ Ecthelion said, laughing. ‘With Glorfindel, it is mostly goats these days. It used to be ships, every time he spotted a sail...’

‘Mel just loves seeing new things and new places. Glorfindel will remember how he always wanted to travel.’

Glorfindel came over and put his arm around Thel’s shoulders. 

‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘Welcome, Lindir. Wasn’t sure you’d sail, you know. How’s things?’

‘Things are good, Glorfindel; I am well, Melpomaen is exuberantly happy, he loves the boat… yes. All is good.’

‘That’s excellent! So, where have you sprung from, then? You haven’t just arrived, I gather?’

Ecthelion patted Fin’s arm.

‘My light, our friends have been travelling obviously for some little time; shall we all get comfortable indoors, first, and then you can catch up to your hearts’ content.’

‘Evil-Eyed El!’ Glorfindel exclaimed. ‘I didn’t finish washing his feet…’

‘I am sure he can wait until tomorrow, my joy. We have guests, after all.’

‘I’ll go and ask Bruiven if he’d mind clearing up for me,’ Fin said. ‘Oh, and I’ll tell Lalbes we have company…’

‘That is an excellent idea. Melpomaen, Lindir, would you like to follow me?’

*

‘We were at Alqualondë when word came about a boat that might have had Erestor on board,’ Melpomaen said. He paused to sip at the fruit cordial Lalbes had brought for everyone. ‘And Lindir and I looked at each other, and I said, shall we…? And he said, oh, all right, then. Or words to that effect.’

Lindir smiled and shook his head.

‘We had been some time there,’ he said. ‘As has been mentioned, Melpomaen loves to travel… I like his company, and so…’

‘I can’t believe it’s taken ten years for news of Erestor to get to us,’ the enthusiastic Noldo said. ‘Except I can, of course; that’s how it is here, gossip goes around a town faster than anything, but news from outside? No, nobody wants it. Especially in the recreated places; you know, like the Happy Valley or New Gondolin; they just want to look inwards and pretend nothing has changed… and the attitude of those in the old places with regard to the new… but Glorfindel, what do you think?’

‘Ah, well, haven’t managed to get to New Gondolin yet. Things to do here, you see. Haven’t gone anywhere, in fact.’

‘Oh, that explains it. We were there for… how long, Lindir? Seven hundred years?’

‘In New Gondolin? Closer to eight hundred, I think. We met some who claimed to have known you; Egalmoth, and Rog… they said you had said you would visit them, so we stayed, in case we missed you…’

‘That long, just in case we happened to drop by?’ Ecthelion shook his head. ‘It seems a long time…’

‘Well, we liked New Gondolin for itself,’ Lindir said. ‘And Melpomaen was happy there.’

‘And you liked Tirion, so we were there a while, also.’

‘Yes,’ Lindir said, smiling. ‘The music was wonderful…’

‘Sweet Lord Eru bless us!’ Ecthelion said with a laugh. ‘Is there anywhere you have not been yet?’

‘Just this area, really,’ Melpomaen said. ‘Of course, we’re here now…’

‘So… how long have you been in Valinor?’ Glorfindel asked, as surprised as Ecthelion at the wanderings of their two guests. 

‘Oh, ages, haven’t we, Lindir?’ 

‘Quite literally. We sailed with Celeborn, in the finish, and we believed we were almost the last.’ Lindir took up the account. ‘To cut short the story, once… once Arwen had departed her life, and Elladan and Elrohir had mourned her suitably, we began to take thought to sailing. Erestor and Arveldir wished to stay; Arveldir being Silvan, of course, he was reluctant… Celeborn… he was ill, you may remember, Glorfindel?’ 

‘I do. Remember you and Mel taking care of him.’

‘Well, he was no trouble. For a time he recovered his faculties, but once Arwen died, the heart went out of him again. As soon as he was ready to leave, we left for the Havens. On Cirdan’s advice, we headed not for the main port, but far to the south where he told us we would find a small harbour and sanctuary for him. We were met by people from Lady Estë’s enclave who took him to a place of healing… and then we had a message from Elrond. He invited us to the settlement he lived in with Gil-Galad, the Happy Valley…’

‘Except it was anything but happy!’ Melpomaen sneered. ‘Celebrian was not there, Gil-Galad was… if I say, too friendly with me… it wasn’t a pleasant situation…’

‘It was very uncomfortable,’ Lindir went on. ‘But Elrond assumed we were there to work, and would have assigned us tasks there and then. On asking where you were, Glorfindel, we were told that you had been invited but had refused, preferring other activities.’

‘Well, that was not quite the case,’ Ecthelion said. ‘Elrond would have insisted Glorfindel accompany him to his Happy Valley, if he could, but my beloved made plain that if he went, I would go, and your former lord lost interest when he realised we were fëa-mates.’

‘We made arrangements to move on immediately,’ Lindir went on. ‘I did not like the atmosphere, nor the assumption that we would simply be put to use without any attempt being made to enquire what we wanted.’

‘Lucky escape if you ask me,’ Glorfindel said. ‘No, we left the Halls of Mandos to settle here, and loved it so much we’ve never left. Not even to visit Rog and Egalmoth. But did you never come to the main port? Did not Elrond tell you where we were?’

‘He said he had seen you only at the Gates of the Halls of Waiting; I do not think he wanted us to leave at all, in fact. But Elladan and Elrohir wanted to see their mother, and of course, Rusdir was with us, too, and he was keen to seek out his Silvan kin. We found our way together to Lothlórien Renewed, where Elladan and Elrohir were offered a home with Celebrian and Galadriel once Rusdir had caught up with his kin. We, too, were made welcome, but Melpomaen wanted to travel, of course, so we only stayed a short while.’

‘To see for myself the wonders of Valinor. Of course, we both liked different places, so when we ended up somewhere we both liked – Alqualondë – we settled down. I learned how to make boats; I made this boat, our boat, and then one day…’

‘One night,’ Lindir corrected. ‘One night, I dreamed that we should take ship and come south.’

‘So we did; it was just a few days later that we heard the story of Erestor’s boat. Lindir packed his lap-harp and we set off. And now we’re here.’

‘Just in time for the New Year festivities,’ Glorfindel said. ‘There’s going to be a lot of festivities. The Silvans off the last boat, most of them want to renew their vows again, and… well, in fact, so are we.’ He grinned. ‘Last time it was just us and Lord Námo, and, well, I want to make a bit of a fuss. Let everyone see how happy Thel and I are. Want to come?’

‘That would be lovely!’ Melpomaen said. ‘It’s wonderful to see you so happy, Glorfindel; I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this content, not even… well. Not ever.’

‘If that was going to be, “not even with Triwathon” do not worry, I know all about Fin’s little adventure,’ Ecthelion said with a smile. ‘And I have reason to believe he is quite over it. Besides, we walked out of Mandos together, both of us in new bodies, to rededicate ourselves to each other. Everything that came before is history.’

‘So there’s nothing to worry about,’ Glorfindel said with a grin. ‘Are you going to stay for supper? Overnight? Would you like to come and meet my goats?’

‘You have goats?’ Melpomaen asked, his tone excited. ‘Really? I would love to see them; I just adore goats!’


End file.
